


Chasing The Wild Winds

by samuelbyrnes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Near Death Experiences, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Storm Chasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-11 01:18:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samuelbyrnes/pseuds/samuelbyrnes
Summary: Paul was done with storm chasing, had given it up years ago after the Oklahoma Incident. Now, he just wants to divorce his current husband and marry his new fiancé, but his husband's been dawdling on signing the papers. So, Paul, like most others would do, goes after the guy to get him to finally sign the papers. What he didn't intend or expect to happen was to get sucked back into chasing and fall back in love with his husband.(aka, a sort of Twister AU no one asked for)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this...mostly because my ABO was giving me grief, but also because Reasons. I did take a lot of inspiration from the actual movie Twister, but it's not an exact thing, y'know? Basically, it's some details and lines and a bit of the plot, but the rest is all me.
> 
> Also, I did fight with myself over what's more-or-less realistic concerning tornadoes vs. what's complete fucking fantasy, so I kinda toed the line on both to keep things interesting.
> 
> Have at it, y'all.
> 
> P.S. concerning the Oklahoma Incident (for the curious minds): I took inspiration from the El Reno tornado that happened back in 2013, so if any of it looks/sounds familiar, that's why.

_Daryl was hiding under his bed, arms wrapped tight around his pit bull Toro, face buried in the dog's scruff. The power had long gone out and Daryl tried to brave the lashing rain and howling wind bundled on his bed, but he dove under the bed with Toro not long after the first strobe of lightning, the first loud crack of thunder. Tree branches lashed against his window, their slapping and shrieking adding to the terror Daryl felt. Toro was whining non-stop, alternating between licking at Daryl and staring at the bedroom door as if waiting for someone. He tilted his head and started barking, causing Daryl to jump and clutch at the dog tighter, trembling.  
_

_Seconds later, the bedroom door banged open, a frantic voice calling out, "Daryl! Toro!"_

_Toro barked, scrambling out from under the bed, Daryl following not long after, launching himself at his brother._

_"Merle."_

_Merle effortlessly picked Daryl up. "We gotta go, baby brother," he said, turning and leaving the room. "Ain't safe here no more."_

_"Where we gonna go?" Daryl mumbled._

_"Hershel's got a storm cellar," Merle replied. "Told me t'come get ya soon as we realized what was happenin'." He turned his head and let out a whistle. "Toro! Come!"_

_He quickly made his way through the trailer, grunting a little as he yanked the outside door open. Both were immediately soaked upon stepping outside, the wind making each drop feel like needles, falling almost horizontal against them. Merle cupped the back of Daryl's head as he ran across the field, murmuring words Daryl couldn't hear over the wind and thunder. He slowly became aware of a roaring sound, almost like they were being chased by a freight train, causing him to gasp and whine and bury his face in Merle's neck. He felt Merle slow, felt the vibrations of him kicking a hard wooden surface, barely hearing the creak of old hinges and a series of shouting. He shivered when Merle hurried down several steps, most noise cutting off as the door was slammed shut and locked._

_"You're absolutely crazy going out in this," a young woman's voice said._

_"Had t'get m'brother," Merle retorted, the arm around Daryl's middle tightening briefly. "Wasn't 'bout t'leave 'im out there."_

_"Toro?" Daryl murmured, picking his head up to look around, then at Merle when he couldn't see the dog. "Where's Toro?"_

_"Dumb mutt's prob'bly still outside," Merle replied, nodding when there was sudden, frantic scratching and barking at the door. "Hell, we should let 'im in."_

_"It's too late to open that door again," the woman's voice said._

_"Ain't leavin' the poor thing out there t'die," Merle growled, grunting when he tried putting Daryl down and the boy refusing. "C'mon, boy. Gotta get yer puppy."_

_"I'll get it," an older man's voice said then._

_"Daddy."_

_"He's right," the older man said. "The other animals will be fine, but that dog won't be unless we get him inside right now."_

_The man went over and quickly unlocked and opened the door, grunting with effort to close it again once the dog ran inside. Darly squirmed out of Merle's hold, wrapping his arms around the dog with a soft hum. He tried to not think about the storm raging outside or the roaring that was getting louder, but he couldn't help jumping when something banged against the door, hinges rattling. He let Merle take his shoulder and pull him away from the door as it started rattling in earnest, everyone huddled near the back as they all stared at the door. He looked up at Merle when the man squeezed his shoulder, giving his brother a wobbly sort of smile, one he returned easily._

_"It's gonna be a'right, baby brother," Merle said._

_His head shot up to the door when the hinges let out an ominous sort of squeak. He looked back down at Daryl, squeezing his shoulder again. Daryl blinked as Merle let him go, stepping forward when he went up to the door, bracing himself as he took hold of the door and pulled, trying to keep it in place._

_"Merle, what the hell are you doing?" the young woman hissed. "You can't hold that thing."_

_"Gonna try," Merle grunted. "Ain't easy, but someone's gotta."_

_Daryl knew what was going to happen seconds before it actually did. Under the howling and rattling, he heard a softly grunted, "shit"; seconds later, the door came off its hinges, getting sucked up into the vortex outside with Merle still holding on. Daryl let out a scream, not thinking as he rushed forward, letting out another scream as hands grabbed him from behind, pulling him away from the howling beast outside._

_"No!" Daryl struggled against the arms holding him back. "No! Merle!"_

~ 

Daryl opened his eyes, sucking in a sharp breath. He stared at his ceiling for a while, breathing slow and deep, letting the emotions from the dream slowly bleed out of him. He hadn't dreamed of that night in a long time, choosing to not dwell too much on it as he got up and out of bed, stretching himself as he made his way into the bathroom. He picked up his phone when he got out, brow furrowing when he saw he had a voice mail. He quickly brought up his inbox, wandering into his kitchen as he listened to the message. 

" _Hey, Daryl,_ " Maggie's voice spoke, cheerful as always. " _I don't know if you saw the forecast or numbers yet, but it looks like we got a big few days ahead of us. Might even be the best time to try this year._ " 

Daryl blinked as he flipped the switch for his coffee pot, letting it percolate while he walked into the living room to boot up his computer, Maggie's voice still in his ear. 

" _Now, I know you,_ " she says, voice going serious, " _an' I'm tellin' you right now; don't. Stop, think, make a plan. Don't go harin' off again like you did in Oklahoma. I don't think Daddy quite forgave you yet for that one. I sure haven't._ " Daryl scoffs as she continues. " _Have a look at everythin', have your coffee, an' meet us at Carol's Diner soon as you can, alright?_ " 

Daryl hums as he deletes the message, putting his phone down before turning his attention to his computer. He frowns when his e-mail comes up, his last one from Paul staring back at him, the words, _I really need those papers back, preferably signed and dated accordingly_ , popping out at him. It almost feels accusatory, and in a way, it is since Daryl had been dithering on the matter for the past few months, not quite ready to call the other man his ex-husband. Not yet. 

He shakes himself and exits out of the e-mail. Now isn't the time to be thinking of those things, not when there's a potential outbreak to chase. 

~ 

"Why are we coming out here again?" 

Paul looks over at Alex, who's looking out at the wide expanse of open fields with a less than thrilled look. He smiles when the man turns to look at him. 

"I'm pretty sure this is the only way I can actually get those papers from Daryl," Paul replies, looking back to the road. "I had hoped I wouldn't have to, but here we are." 

Alex scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Are you even sure he'll be out here?" he asks. 

"A day like today?" Paul shoots back. "He'll definitely be out here." 

"I just don't see why you guys would do this," Alex says, gesturing vaguely. "Why you would risk your lives for something you might not even get?" 

"Any bit of data is better than none," Paul says softly, fingers tightening on the wheel. "Any new knowledge gained is one step closer to a better understanding." He glances over when Alex scoffs again. "For most, the risk is worth it if it means keeping others, especially loved ones, safe and alive." 

"Whatever." Alex reclines back a bit, closing his eyes. 

Paul sighs softly, staring ahead at the empty road. He drives several more miles before finally pulling up to a small diner, parking near the front and turning the truck off. Alex opens his eyes and looks around, frowning as he takes everything in. 

"We here?" he asks, sitting up. 

Paul nods and unbuckles his seat belt, pocketing the keys before getting out, closing the door behind him. He sees more than a few heads come up, sees some of them smile and call out to him, waving. He smiles and waves back, then turns and heads inside the diner, smile faltering a bit when he spots Maggie in one of the booths, head bent low over some papers and a map. He turns to the counter, taking an empty seat and smiling at the waitress in front of him. 

"What can I get you, honey?" she asks. 

"Just a coffee, please," Paul replies. 

The waitress nods and walks off, coming back almost immediately with a mug and steaming pot. She plops the mug down and pours a cup, reaching under the counter and coming back with a spoon and a few creamers. She smiles at him when he quietly thanks her. 

"Let me know if you need anythin' else," she says before turning and leaving. 

Paul puts some sugar and cream in his coffee, idly stirring it as he looks around the diner. Despite being between rushes, the diner's crowded, but Paul can tell most of them are chasers, pouring over data and mapping out routes. He startles when a plate's dropped on the counter in front of him and someone softly clears their throat. He looks down at the plate with a single cookie on it, then up to the woman scowling at him, a smile stretching his lips. 

"Carol," Paul greets. "Long time, no see." 

"You could say that," Carol says. "Any reason for being in town today?" 

"Just passing through," Paul replies, trying to not shrink at her tone. "Wanted to show Alex some of the old stomping grounds." 

Carol's brow shoots up a little. "Seems a waste to not bring him in here," she says. "Is my cooking really that bad?" 

"Not at all," Paul says. "He's still sleeping in the truck. We had a late night and I didn't want to wake him." 

Carol makes a disbelieving sort of sound. "Well, when you come back around, bring him in," she says. "I'd love to meet the guy." She pins him with a look when he opens his mouth. "There's only so many ways to get out of here. Don't detour around me, you hear?" 

She graces him with a smile before turning and heading into the kitchen. Paul watches her go, then looks down at the cookie, figures it's safe enough to eat, and picks it up. He takes a bite and makes a face, dunking it in his coffee before trying again, to better results. He finishes both in short order, waving off an offer of a refill and pulls out his wallet, taking out a few bills and putting them down next to his empty mug. He then stands and leaves the diner, noticing Maggie had left as well. He grimaces a little when he spots her standing outside near his truck, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. 

"I thought I heard you," she says, squinting a bit under the bright sun. "What're you doin' here?" 

Paul gives her the same answer he gave Carol. "Just passing through," he says. "Wanted to see some of the old stomping grounds." 

"Seems pretty convenient to see you on a day like today," Maggie says. "Not really prime conditions for walkin' 'round town." She raises her brows a little when Paul remains silent, then glances at Alex still inside the truck. "He your new beau?" 

"Alex, and yes," Paul says, looking up and smiling at Alex. "Come on out. Want you to meet someone." 

Alex frowns, but climbs out, smoothing his shirt down before walking over. He gives Maggie a genial sort of smile, snaking an arm around Paul's waist. Maggie looks Alex up and down before returning the smile, holding out a hand. 

"Maggie Greene," she says. "It's nice to finally meet you." 

Alex takes her hand, squeezing tight and giving a single shake before letting go. "Alex," he says. "Been wondering when Paul would introduce me to his former co-workers." 

"I told you," Paul says with a minor eye roll. "They're always busy, and so are we. Our schedules never matched up." He leans into the taller man gently. "We both finally had some time off, so I took a chance they'd be around, and here we are." He leans his head on the man's shoulder, smiling up at him. 

Alex grins, planting a kiss on Paul's lip. "Could've been home," he says. "Could've been doing other, more fun things with our day off." He slides his hand down to Paul's hip, squeezing just as he kisses the shorter man again. 

Paul hums, pulling away and licking his lips. "Thought you wanted to meet my friends," he murmurs. "We can go home and have all the fun you want later." 

He lets out a yelp when he's abruptly spun and pulled against Alex's chest, one arm holding him in place while the other grips at his ponytail, tugging. His mouth opens in a gasp of surprise; seconds later, he has Alex's tongue in his mouth, lips pressing together roughly. He lets Alex ravage his mouth, getting on his toes for a better angle, humming when Alex grunts. He sucks in a pained breath when Alex yanks on his hair as he's trying to pull away, his other hand creeping down his back to rest just above his ass. When the taller man bites down too harshly on his lower lip, Paul's had enough. He bites the other man's tongue when he dives back in, causing him to howl in pain and yank at Paul's hair, pulling him away. Paul squirms out of Alex's hold, panting lightly, bringing a hand up to touch his lip, grimacing when he sees spots of blood on his fingers. 

"What the hell?" Alex demands, rubbing his jaw as if it'll help with the pain. 

"You know I don't like my hair yanked on," Paul says with a small frown. "Be lucky it was only your tongue." 

"You never complain when we're in bed," Alex retorts. 

"Two different scenarios," Paul shoots back. 

Alex scoffs, "Whatever." He spins and walks off, still rubbing at his jaw. 

Paul's shoulders sag, sighing deeply, staring down at the napkin being held out to him. He looks up and Maggie smiles, waving the napkin until Paul takes it, pressing it against his lip. 

"That's the guy you want to marry?" she asks after several quiet minutes. 

"He's really a sweet guy," Paul says. "I mean, he has his moments, you just saw evidence of that, but don't we all?" 

Maggie shrugs. "Usually, you learn from those moments," she says, looking in the general direction of where Alex disappeared to, then back to Paul. "I don't want to make any assumptions, but what just happened seems normal for you two, an' I'm not sure that's a good thing." She puts her hands up when Paul scowls. "I'm more than aware that you can handle yourself, but I can't help worryin'." 

"There's nothing to worry about," Paul says, dabbing his lip before pulling the napkin away. "Everything's fine." 

Maggie stares at him, but lets the subject drop. "Fine," she says, glancing over at the caravan, then back to Paul. "We're gettin' goin' soon. Y'wanna come say hi to everyone?" 

"Why not," Paul says. 

He follows Maggie over to the caravan, smiling at everyone who greets him. He sees a couple new faces, who give him wary glances before going back to what they were doing. Maggie stops near a Winnebago, reaching out to embrace an Asian man, laughing when he jumps in surprise. 

"Don't do that," he says, turning to return the hug. A wide smile stretches his lips when he sees Paul, squirming out of Maggie's hold to hug the other man. "Jesus! It's been way too long, man!" He pulls away, head tilted. "How's the weatherman routine going for you?" 

"It goes," Paul says with a half-shrug. "Nothing like being out here, but I like it." 

"Put a little more enthusiasm in your words next time; it'll sound more convincing," the man teases. 

"Glenn," Maggie admonished gently. 

"Sorry." Glenn shrugs, letting Paul go. "Seriously, though. We haven't seen you in over a year. What gives?" 

"Thinkin' it might have somethin' to do with a certain stack of papers," Maggie says before Paul can open his mouth. She smiles when Paul frowns at her. "I've had to sit an' listen to that man moan about signin' somethin' he ain't ready for an' somethin' about pesky assholes naggin' him about it." She glances over at Paul's truck, then back to them. "Honestly, I'm kinda sidin' with him on this one." 

"Alex has nothing to do with this," Paul says tightly. "I'm not the one who fucked up so monumentally it's left physical and emotional reminders." 

"If this is about Oklahoma..." 

"It's not just Oklahoma," Paul interrupts. "It's Texas and Ohio and Kansas and Illinois; motherfucking _Missouri_ , Maggie. It's a reckless streak that's going to get him and all of you killed if he doesn't get it under control." 

"He listened to you," Maggie puts in softly. 

"Yeah, and people still died or got hurt," Paul retorts. "Because someone only listened to half the shit I was saying." 

"He's gotten better," Glenn says. "It doesn't stop him being reckless, but he's been refusing to let others follow him." 

"Alone?" Paul asks, mouth dropping open when Glenn nods. "Is he suicidal or something? He knows better than to go out solo." 

"Well, maybe someone should go with him," Maggie says, grinning when Paul throws her a scowl. "I'm just sayin'. You bein' here when shit's about to hit the fan might be one of your more intelligent moments these past few years." 

"I'm not going with you guys," Paul says immediately. "I came here to get him to finally sign those papers and get back home and marry Alex." 

"Might want to go talk to him, then," Maggie says, crossing her arms. "He's been tryin' to fix Doppler an' judgin' by those clouds, we ain't gonna be here much longer; probably shoulda left already, actually." 

Glenn starts rolling up the maps scattered on the hood of the Winnebago at her words, carefully tucking them behind the passenger's seat. Maggie walks off to a small group of people, helping them pack things up into their respective vehicles. Paul licks his lips and looks around for a second before walking in the general direction of the Doppler, nerves slowly settling in his gut the closer he gets. He sees the vest before he really sees the man, the dirty white wings on the back practically a beacon in the early afternoon sun. He stops near the open sliding door, nodding to Tara, who's in the back fussing with some wires. She quirks a smile and bangs on the roof of the vehicle. 

"I'm going to give it another try, so watch it!" 

She bangs on the roof again before pressing a few buttons. Some sparks fly and Paul hears Daryl spit out a series of curses, but the monitors inside the vehicle light up and he can hear the whir of the Doppler shifting. Tara lets out a cheer and start trying to organize the mess of wire in front of her, looking up when there's a bang from above. 

"Shift 'er northeast a bit; wanna get a look-see." 

"You already know," Tara grumbles, but shifts around and presses a few buttons. "There." 

"Thanks." 

Paul startles when Daryl jumps down from the roof, narrowly missing him. Daryl steps back when he sees Paul, face falling into his customary scowl. Paul gives him a small smile. 

"Hey, Daryl," he says. "Long time no see." 

"The hell you doin' here, Rovia?" Daryl asks, turning away from Paul to climb into the vehicle, pushing past Tara and parking himself on a seat inside. "Thought you were done with this shit." 

"I can't come say hi?" Paul asks back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't see how everyone else is doing?" 

"Seems mighty convenient timin' t'me," Daryl answers, poking at a keyboard and staring at a screen. "'S easy enough t'assume y'ain't here fer a social call." He grumbles when the monitor does something he doesn't like; turning away from it to look at Paul, eyes narrow. "He here wit' you?" 

Paul shrugs and Daryl gets up, exiting the vehicle and heading in the direction of the diner. Paul shoots Tara a look and follows, catching up easily. 

"What are you doing?" he asks. 

"Just wanna say hi t'the guy," Daryl replies. "That ain't gonna be a problem, right?" 

"Only if you make it one," Paul retorts. 

Daryl snorts and keeps walking, stopping near Paul's truck, scowling at Alex, who was leaning against the hood with a frown on his face. Alex glowers at Daryl before looking to Paul, one eyebrow lifted. 

"We good to go yet?" he asks. 

"Not quite," Paul replies, holding his hands up when Alex rolls his eyes. "Alex, this is Daryl. Daryl, Alex. Play nice." 

They reluctantly shake hands and Paul gets the distinct feeling he's witnessing some sort of Alpha Male machismo given the way Alex winces through his smile and the way Daryl's scowling. Eventually, they release each other, Alex subtly shaking his hand out, Daryl tilting his head. 

"So, where'd you two meet?" he asks. 

"Physical therapy," Alex replies. "Paul was in for a routine visit for his knee and I was his therapist." 

"That thing's still givin' you problems?" Daryl asks Paul. 

"Does your shoulder?" Paul shoots back. 

Daryl scowls and looks away, not answering. 

Alex looks between them before continuing. "Anyway, he switched therapists so we could go out together without it seeming too weird or violating any rules," he says. "Several dates and a year and a half later, we decided to get married." He cocks his head to the side. "I mean, we would, if only someone knew how to let him go." 

Daryl whips his head to stare at Alex. "Excuse me?" 

"I'm just saying..." 

"Daryl!" Maggie calls, drawing all their attention. "We just word of a tornado warning; possibly one already on the ground! We gotta go, now!" 

Daryl scowls at Alex, softening into something apologetic when he looks to Paul. 

"Sorry, gotta go," he says. 

He turns and runs off, jumping into a beat up red truck. Others were quickly packing things up, slamming doors and calling out to one another. Paul watches the action before turning to Alex, frowning. 

"What the hell was that?" he asks. "I told him not to make trouble because I know him. I expected better from you." 

Alex rolls his eyes again. "Did he even sign the papers?" he asks. 

Paul's eyes widen slightly. "Shit." He shoves at Alex, shaking his head when the taller man tries protesting. "Don't say anything, just get in the truck." 

Paul gets in the truck and starts it up, joining the caravan driving down the road. They've gone a few miles when Paul becomes aware of another caravan coming up behind them, every one of them painted black. He frowns when the lead vehicle comes up next to him, the man in the passenger's seat looking over and winking at him. 

"Fuckin' A," Paul mutters. 

"What's wrong?" Alex asks. 

"Negan," Paul replies simply. "Stupid son of a bitch that sold us all out for a bunch of corporate sponsors." He grimaces as the vehicle passes them. "Asshole's in it for the money, not the research, but;" he throws Alex a smile; "he doesn't have Dottie." 

"Dottie?" Alex queries. 

Paul opens his mouth to reply when his radio crackles to life, Abraham's voice coming through. 

" _Hey, Dixon, we got roaches._ " 

Paul swears he can hear Daryl cursing colorfully and he can't help the light chuckle of amusement. He picks up his receiver. 

"Speaking of, what the hell's he doing here?" he asks. 

" _Hell if I know,_ " Daryl replies. " _He's prob'bly thinkin' the same 'bout you._ " 

" _Seriously, what are you doing here?_ " Tara inquires. " _I thought you didn't want to do this anymore._ " 

" _It is nice to have him back, though,_ " Glenn pipes up. 

"I'm not back," Paul bites out. 

" _So, why are you following us?_ " Tara asks. 

"I just..." 

Paul's interrupted by the blare of a horn, startling him bad. He drops the receiver, veering into the ditch, initially pressing hard on the gas, but soon slamming on the brakes. He hears a few things hit the undercarriage, hears at least one tire pop, and he swears, slamming his hands on the steering wheel once they've stopped. 

"Son of a bitch!" 

"Paul..." 

"I'm alright," Paul says, shutting off the truck before waving vaguely at Alex. "Just got spooked by that asshole behind us." 

"You know he intentionally ran us off the road, right?" Alex says gently. "He couldn't get around us, so he ran us off the road." 

"Asshole," Paul mutters. 

He grimaces when he hears the radio crackle with multiple voices, wondering what happened and if they're alright. Paul picks up the receiver, breathing deep a few times. 

"We're fine," he says. "Some jackass ran us off the road." 

" _Where?_ " Daryl growls. 

"About halfway to Ezekiel's," Paul replies. "There's at least one flat and the undercarriage got a bit of a beating." 

" _We'll get ya a tow an' get ya to Zeke's,_ " Daryl says. 

"That's not entirely necessary," Paul says. 

He doesn't get an answer, so he puts the receiver. He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes and sighing softly. Several minutes pass in relative silence, and when it's combined with the occasional rocking of the truck from passing vehicles, Paul finds himself drifting off. He's startled back to wakefulness when Alex nudges him; looking over at the man, then out the window when he gestures to the outside. A tow truck with the words _Kingdom Auto & Repairs_ is coming down the road, slowly making a circuit to park in front of them, it's back to their front. Two men climb out of the truck, one tall with a wide smile upon seeing Paul, the other shorter with a scowl. The taller one appears to be bouncing in place, waiting just long enough for Paul to get out of his truck before pulling him into a tight hug. 

"Jesus!" the man exclaims, a little too loudly. "It has been too long, my friend!" 

Paul chuckles softly, returning the hug. "Maybe a little," he says, pulling away. "It's good to see you, Ezekiel, but what're you doing out here with the tow truck?" 

"Sitting idle at a desk has never done me any good," Ezekiel replies, looking over when Alex finally gets out of the truck. "And who might this man be?" 

"This is Alex," Paul says, taking Alex's hand and gently tugging him toward Ezekiel. "He's my fiancé. I wanted to show him around a bit before heading back home." 

Ezekiel's brows jump a little, his mouth opening as if to say something, but shuts it quickly. He smiles again as he holds out his hand, shaking it when Alex grips it. 

"A pleasure to meet you, Alex," he says. 

"Likewise," Alex murmurs. 

They drop their hands and Ezekiel turns to Paul. "We'll get your truck hooked up and we'll be on our way then, yes?" he says, then turns to the shorter man, nodding. 

They get the truck hooked up in short order and they all climb into the cab, squirming around a little to try and get comfortable. It's a tight fit and the silence is static and uncomfortable, but it's only four miles to the shop, so they make do. Alex is the first to jump out when the truck stops at the shop, appearing highly discomforted as he paces in a tight circle. Paul watches him before turning to Ezekiel, smiling when the man throws him a concerned glance. 

"He's not good in cramped quarters," he explains. "He'll be fine in a few minutes." 

Ezekiel nods, still looking concerned. "Perhaps something to eat or drink might help," he suggests, then quirks a smile. "It would be a much more enjoyable way to spend your time while I assess for damage and fix your flat." 

"Might be a good idea," Paul agrees. "How long do you think it'll take?" 

"No more than half an hour, I believe," Ezekiel says, waving at Paul when the man opens his mouth. "We'll discuss the cost when you come back, now go." 

Paul closes his mouth and nods. He turns and walks up to Alex, tilting his head when the man stops pacing to look at him. 

"You alright?" Paul asks. 

"I'd honestly feel better if we were anywhere but here," Alex replies. 

"I really am sorry about all of this," Paul says, reaching out to cup Alex's cheek. "I should've known this was going to happen, but I didn't, and now we're stuck until I get those papers." 

"Does he even know how to sign anything?" Alex asks. 

Paul pulls away with a frown. "He's a lot smarter than he looks," he replies. "He just has a problem with letting things go." He bites his lip when Alex scoffs and shakes his head. "Why don't you go and get something to eat while I go get those papers?" 

"Whatever." Alex turns and walks off, towards the small restaurant next door to the repair shop. Paul watches him go before turning and walking toward the caravan of vehicles, pasting a smile on his lips. Maggie practically tackles him when he gets close enough, looking him up and down, chewing on her lower lip. 

"Everythin' a'right?" she asks. 

"All good," Paul replies. "Zeke's fixing up the truck and Alex is getting lunch." He glances over at the other caravan on the roadside, nose wrinkling. "So, what's Negan and his goons doing here?" 

Maggie shrugs. "We're all pretty sure he's following Daryl," she replies. "Sure, he's got all the fancy equipment an' sponsorships, but his instinct's for shit, so he does the next best thing." Her face twists into a scowl then. "We're all pretty sure he's got other motives now that Daryl's technically single, but we can't prove anythin'." 

"Can't wait for it to be official, can he?" Paul asks rhetorically. 

Maggie half-shrugs. "Wouldn't be a problem if certain circumstances hadn't happened," she replies, smirking when Paul scowls at her, then frowns. "There's also another thing." 

"Is it that he stole Dottie's plans?" Paul questions, tilting his head when Maggie stares at him. "The guy's got a big mouth and absolutely no sense to speak of." He shrugs. "I knew months ago. I tried doing something about it, but he's got a better legal team than I do. I imagine Daryl tried going through less legal means." He rolls his eyes when Maggie grins while biting her lip. "Figures." 

"What'd you expect?" Maggie retorts. "Dottie was a joint effort by the both o' ya an' this asshole comes 'round an' steals the idea; put a patent an' everythin' on it." 

"He'll never get it to fly," Paul says. "You know that as well as I do." 

"Well, sure," Maggie agrees, "but if we do, we could get into some serious trouble if he thinks it's somethin' worth goin' after." 

"So, get Andrea on it if it comes to it," Paul says. "You can't let one asshole and his monster ego stop you from making history." 

"Aw, sweetie, you make me blush," someone says from behind Paul. 

Paul closes his eyes and breathes deep before turning. "Negan," he says amiably. "What brings you here?" 

"Figured I'd come say hello to my favorite chaser-turned-weatherman," Negan says, grinning wide. "It's been a long time since I actually saw your Jesus-looking self on the road and I gotta say; it's refreshing as hell to see you. One might say I feel blessed to see you today." He laughs while Paul grimaces. "How long you plan on being out here, anyway?" 

"Didn't mean to be here at all," Paul says shortly. 

"Yet here you are," Negan says before Paul can say anything else. "Out here with the rest of us assholes. You going to make it home in time for the ten o'clock news; because I sure as shit will miss seeing you and that lovely smile telling me what the weather's going to be like tomorrow." He leans close, licking his lower lip when Paul leans back. "Or maybe you could do it for me now; throw in that cute smile and a little wiggle? Save me the trouble?" He pulls back and gives an exaggerated pout when Paul remains silent. "No? Fine. I guess I'll see you tonight, then." He winks and turns, walking off, whistling some sort of tune. 

Paul lets loose a shiver, murmuring, "I hate that man." 

"You an' the rest o' the crew," Maggie says, glancing at Paul. "I know how much you want those papers, but I'm not sure now's the time to be naggin' Daryl about them." 

"Because of the potential outbreak," Paul finishes, sighing. "I know, but it's been a year already, Maggie. I know what he's doing by procrastinating like this, but it's not going to work. Not this time." 

"You still came all this way," Maggie says softly. "Eight hours, in a completely different state." 

"Sometimes, you have to chase him down to get him to do anything," Paul grouses. "You know that better than I do." 

"Sure," Maggie agrees, nodding, "but maybe wait a day or two? Actually show your guy around, rather than usin' it as an excuse." She smiles and pats Paul's shoulder before walking off. 

Paul sighs heavily, tilting his head back to stare at the sky, scowling at the passing clouds. He watches them for a while, shifting his posture as the wind picks up and the clouds get bigger, the sky darkening just a little. He looks around at the different directions before he realizes what he's doing and shakes himself, huffing softly. 

"You're done with this shit, Rovia," he murmurs to himself. "Just turn around, go have lunch with Alex, then find a hotel for the night." 

He nods and turns to do just that when he spots Daryl not too far off, also staring at the sky, eyes narrow. He's chewing on a thumbnail when he glances over at Paul, shrugging at the man when he raises his brows. 

"Gonna have t'get goin'," Daryl mumbles, removing his thumb from his mouth. "Don't wanna miss another one." He tilts his head curiously. "Sure you won't wanna come along? One last ride 'fore it's finalized?" 

Paul blinks and looks back at the sky, chewing on his lip. "I really shouldn't," he murmurs. 

"Y'came all this way," Daryl says. 

"Because of you," Paul says. 

Daryl rolls his eyes. "Y'do a lotta shit cuz of me," he grumbles. "Y'prob'bly still will once yer finally outta here." He half-shrugs and turns. "'S yer choice if y'wanna tag 'long or not." 

He jogs away, going over to the Winnebago to talk with Glenn and Abraham. Paul watches them converse, chewing on his lip, trying to ignore the want while they start packing things into the vehicle. He scrubs a hand through his hair with a muttered, "Fuck." 

He sees Daryl glance back, sees the way his lips quirk in a small smile when Paul nods and Paul almost hates himself for agreeing or even feeling any sort of warmth for that smile. He makes quick work of getting to the restaurant, side-stepping Maggie who was coming out with a small bag of takeaway. 

"He's at the counter," she tells him as she passes, reaching out to quickly squeeze his shoulder before walking off. 

Paul enters the restaurant, smoothly taking the seat next to Alex, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Alex turns to him, brow quirked. 

"What is it?" he asks, rolling his eyes when Paul looks at him. "You're fussing, so what's going on?" He waits, frowning when Paul glances outside at the caravan. "You're going with them? Seriously?" 

"We have to get those papers," Paul says, cringing a little when Alex huffs. "You don't have to come with; I know where a good hotel is where you can stay the night." 

"And wait for you to never come back?" Alex gripes and shakes his head. "Fuck that. We're going together." He stands abruptly and yanks out his wallet, throwing some bills down. "Let's go." He snags a to-go cup, shoves it at Paul and grabs another before turning and stalking out of the restaurant. 

Paul stands and quickly follows, clutching at the cup. He directs Alex to their truck, shaking his head when the taller man tries to follow him. 

"Take the truck and follow the Winnebago," Paul says, running off to Daryl's truck over Alex's shouted protests. 

"Y'ain't goin' wit' yer boy?" Daryl asks once Paul's situated in the truck. 

"He's not my boy and you invited me along this wild goose chase," Paul shoots back. "Suck it up and drive." 

Daryl makes a face, but starts the truck, quickly pulling out of the driveway and speeding down the highway. Paul shifts, tamping down an old panic response, licking his lips. 

"Think you're going fast enough?" 

"Ev'ry second counts," Daryl replies, but he slows down a little anyway. 

Paul relaxes. "So, how many have you guys chased since I left?" he asks. 

"Dunno." Daryl shrugs. "Too many t'count." 

"And how many have you barreled headlong into on your own?" Paul asks, raising his brows when Daryl glowers at him. 

"Ain't any o' yer business," Daryl replies. "Still here, ain't I?" 

"How long do you think that's going to last, though?" 

"If this is 'bout Oklahoma..." 

"We almost _died_ in Oklahoma, Daryl," Paul shouts, suddenly angry. "I don't know if you remember that part, but we're both goddamn lucky we're still alive right now." His shoulders slump then, face solemn. "We got so much data from that storm, but I'm not sure it was worth it." 

"Ev'ry bit o' data's worth it," Daryl murmurs. 

"I spent two months in the hospital, Daryl," Paul says. "Half our friends and most of the doctors didn't think I'd wake up, but here I am; alive and kicking." 

" _An' we're all grateful fer that,_ " Maggie pipes up, startling the both of them. " _Fer the record, I'm not sure if y'all care, but if y'peek to yer left, y'might see somethin' good._ " 

They both turn their heads, eyes lighting up when they see what Maggie was talking about. Daryl presses down on the gas, glancing between the road and the tornado, veering down a side road, kicking up dirt as they go. They slide down into a ditch and Daryl grimaces when they bounce roughly, peeking over at Paul when the man hisses in pain. 

"Easy," Paul mutters, rubbing his head, staring out at the tornado with a frown. "We're too close." 

"It'll work," Daryl says, gripping tight to the steering wheel. 

He hears Paul murmuring softly, glancing over when the pitch of his voice turns higher and more panicked. He glances back to the front and swears, slamming on the brakes, grimacing when his truck hits the pole of the platform. 

"Jesus fuck," Paul gripes, fumbling with his belt buckle. "We have to get under that thing, right now." 

"We can still do this," Daryl says, unbuckling his own belt and jumping out of the car, grunting when he's immediately buffeted by the wind. 

"That thing's too damn close, Daryl!" Paul shouts over the wind, running over and grabbing Daryl's arm, trying to pull him under the platform. "We don't have the time!" 

"We got all the time!" Daryl shouts back, but allows Paul to pull him under the platform. "We could'a done it, Paul." 

Paul's shaking his head, wrapping one arm around Daryl and the other around another pole, gripping as tight as he can. He can't help the tremors in his body as he listens to the roar of the tornado coming closer, ducking his head when the boards above them start rattling. He feels Daryl turn and he tries gripping tighter, nails digging in when the other man inches away, toward the tornado. 

"What the hell're you doing?" Paul yells. 

"Wanna see it." 

Daryl's answer is almost lost in the wind, but Paul hears it as he gapes and scrabbles for the man as he crawls further away. Paul all but tackles Daryl, causing the larger man to grunt and falter. The wind kicks up and they both get a faceful of mud, their hair flailing around wildly. Paul grabs Daryl's hand and pulls him away from the tornado, back to the pole he first grabbed onto. Daryl finally listens and wraps around Paul, both of them ducking their heads while the storm blew past. Paul flinched when Daryl's truck banged against the platform a few times before stopping; eventually, the slats above them stopped rattling as well and the wind slowly wound down, the roar of the tornado petering out. They stayed huddled under the platform for several minutes after everything died down, wanting to be sure it was safe before doing anything. Paul peeked up first, wide eyes looking every which way before nudging Daryl, looking at equally wide eyes before back to outside, brows furrowing. 

"Where's m'truck?" Daryl wonders. 

They're crawling out from under the platform when there's a sudden crash and the sound of tires screeching that almost has both of them scrambling back under the platform before they realize what's going on. Daryl blinks as he looks up to the road, watching in bemusement when he sees Alex veering wildly to avoid Daryl's truck that had unexpectedly landed in front of him. 

"There it is," he mumbles. 

"Oh, Alex," Paul murmurs. 

They both climb up and out of the ditch, Daryl wandering over to the caravan while Paul jogs over to Alex. He sees the white-knuckled grip Alex has on the steering wheel, sees the wide-eyed terror on his face and sighs softly. He gently opens the door, smiling softly when Alex's head immediately turns to him, blinking rapidly. 

"Hey," he whispers. "Think you could turn the truck off and come out?" 

Alex gives a jerky nod and turns the car off, shaky hands fumbling with the seat belt before practically falling out of the truck. Paul catches him, grimacing slightly when he realizes what a state he's in, but tamps that down in favor of wrapping his arms around the taller man. 

"It's alright," he soothes, grunting when Alex's arm suddenly wrap tightly around him. "You weren't hurt. I wasn't hurt. We're both alright." 

"You're filthy," Alex mumbles, causing Paul to laugh and nod. 

"Just a little," he says. "It's what happens when you get a little too close to a tornado." 

"Shouldn't of been out there in the first place," Alex says into Paul's neck. 

"Probably not," Paul concedes, easing away from Alex with a smile, "but I think I got that particular urge out of my system." 

"Does that mean we can go to a hotel tonight?" Alex asks. "Try again another day?" 

"Was just about t'go t'Hershel's, if you two wanna join us," Daryl says from behind Paul, causing him and Alex to jump and turn to the man; he shrugs. "We're close 'nough an' y'could wash up without forkin' over any money." 

Paul looks to Alex, who simply shrugs, so he turns back to Daryl. "We'll follow you guys," he says, then glances between the two men, sending out a silent apology before saying, "Or, you could ride with us. I'm not sure how comfortable it'd be in the Winnebago or anywhere else." 

"Don't matter how I get there," Daryl says, but he wanders over to open one of the back doors, climbing in and shutting it. 

Paul glances over at Alex, smiling a little helplessly when he sees the deep scowl on the man's face. Alex rolls his eyes and gets in on the passenger's side, shutting the door a little aggressively, as if to make a point. Paul's shoulders sag a bit as he climbs into the driver's seat, grimacing when he gets a peek of himself in the rear view mirror, trying to pat his hair down and failing. 

"That's going to be a bitch to brush out," he mumbles. 

He hears dual snorts of amusement and makes a face, buckling his seat belt and starting the truck, maneuvering around debris as he drives down the road toward Hershel's farm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't expecting to get much of a response out of this, but it's pretty awesome that y'all are enjoying it. Hopefully, I don't disappoint in this chapter or the last one (which should come Saturday or Sunday). :D

Paul stares at his slightly blurry reflection in the bathroom mirror, letting the sound of the shower and muffled voices from downstairs wash over him. He hadn't intended to go this far in getting those papers from Daryl, but what did he expect from the man? The guy was more stubborn than a mule on a good day, never mind trying to get him to do something he absolutely didn't want regardless of the day. He hadn't intended to get roped into chasing, yet here he was; filthy and wild-haired and wondering how many more he could get away with before Alex put his foot down.

He groans and scrubs his hands over his face before reaching down and yanking his shirt off, tossing it aside carelessly. His shoes, socks, pants, and underwear also get pulled off in short order as he thrusts the curtain aside and climbs into the shower, hissing as the hot water hits his body. He pulls the curtain closed then tilts his head back, closing his eyes and letting his hair soak through. Despite his hair being a tangled mess, he showers quickly, but stays under the spray a little longer to soak in the heat and steam. 

~ 

"Shower's free," Paul calls while walking down the stairs, rubbing his hair with a towel as he goes. 

"Dibs," Daryl calls back, finishing his food swiftly and standing. 

They pass each other in the hallway, both murmuring soft apologies when they bump into one another. Paul watches Daryl climb the stairs before wandering into the dining room, a smile stretching his lips at the scene. Somehow, they got Alex into the middle of the table, Jerry on his left and Tara on his right, both chattering nonstop while they eat. Maggie's sitting across from him, watching him pick at his food with a keen eye, gracing Paul with a smile when she looks up at him. 

"Feel better?" she asks him. 

"A bit," Paul replies, bypassing the dining room for the kitchen, picking up a plate, silverware, and some food before wandering back and taking a seat at the table. He gives Alex a smile. "You doing alright?" 

Alex grimaces. "Good as I can be right now," he replies. 

"We were just telling him the story of how your drunk ass tried taking on a tornado," Tara butts in with a grin, stuffing a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. 

Paul blinks, then flushes. "I did no such thing," he retorts. 

"Pfft." Tara puts her fork down to point at Paul while looking at Alex. "This dumbass got stupid drunk one night, right? Worse, he's also naked." 

"Buck naked," Jerry agrees with a nod. 

"Not naked," Paul protests. 

"Uh-huh," Tara says. "Anyway, I'm not sure on the details because this was before I got roped into this shit, but he wanders outside in all his glory, a bottle of wine in one hand and wanders up to this tornado as if it's not going to suck him right up and it's bye-bye Jesus." 

"So, what does this dumbass do?" Jerry says, picking up where Tara left off. "He walks right up to this EF3 and shouts "The power of Christ compels you!", and he chucks the bottle of wine into the tornado." 

"And it never hits the ground," Tara finishes. 

Alex blinks, looking between them and Paul. "Did...did this really happen?" he asks softly. 

"It was my evil twin," Paul immediately replies. "The, uh, Anti-Christ?" 

There's a sudden few seconds of silence before half the table bursts out laughing, the other half shaking their heads. Paul flushes and ducks his head, waiting for the laughter to die down before peeking his head up tentatively. 

"You're terrible," Maggie says with a fond shake of her head. 

"I do try," Paul quips back with a small smile. 

"So, wait a minute," Alex pipes up, confusion written all over his face. "What the hell's an E-F-3?" 

"Enhanced Fujita," Paul replies. "It's a scale based on the power and destruction of a tornado. You don't often seen anything above an EF2." 

"We've all seen everything up to an EF4," Maggie says, voice going solemn and quiet. "Only a few of us ever saw an EF5. Daddy's seen it; I was there, but I don't like thinkin' 'bout it." She swallows and glances toward the hallway where Daryl disappeared. "Daryl did; lost his brother to it." 

"I'm sorry," Alex says softly. 

"It's fine," Maggie says. "Just don't mention it around him." 

Alex nods and goes back to his food. Slowly, the noise in the room goes back to it's usual, a temporary hush going over the room when Daryl reenters, but is quick to escalate back. Daryl scowls, but says nothing, dropping down into the nearest seat, running a hand through his damp hair. 

"So, what now?" Tara asks after finishing off her potatoes. 

"We wait," Daryl replies easily, looking over at Paul. "What 'bout you an' Alex? Gonna stay here or find a place nearby?" 

"Would you guys mind us staying here for now?" Alex asks, shrinking down a little when Daryl turns his attention to him. "I mean, I wouldn't mind staying here for now, but we can find somewhere else if need be." 

"You guys are good to stay here," Maggie says. "We have plenty of room since it's only Daddy and Beth here full-time." 

"Then we'll stay here," Paul says. 

Maggie grins. "I'm sure Daddy'll love the company," she says. 

"Where did Hershel run off to anyway?" Paul asks. 

"He's out in the pasture with the girls," Maggie replies. "You know how he gets sometimes." 

Paul nods, turning his attention to the remainder of his food. He lets the various conversations wash over him, feeling himself relax despite the tension in the air. He jumps when he feels fingers in his hair, alternating between twisting the strands and playing with the ends. He relaxes more before he realizes what's going on and makes a face, straightening slightly, nose wrinkling when it makes the fingers tug at his hair. He glances up, seeing the glower Alex was directing at Daryl, who had his arm casually draped over the back of Paul's chair and was the one playing with Paul's hair. Paul shakes his head a little obviously and he feels a few sharp tugs before the fingers leave. He sighs and looks back over at Alex, who's now glowering at him and he frowns, tilting his head in silent inquiry. Alex rolls his eyes and looks away, appearing to quietly engage in whatever story Tara's currently telling. 

Of course, the calm never lasts. 

Rosita bursts into the house twenty minutes later, startling everyone inside; turning to look at her. She rolls her eyes, hands on her hips. 

"New warning just got put out; Elk County," she says simply before turning and leaving the house. 

Seconds later, the house is abuzz with activity; people quickly, but carefully putting their dishes in the sink, pushing chairs in, grabbing shoes and bags, and then rushing out of the house to the caravan of vehicles. Paul finds himself and Alex swept up in the din, making apologies to a suddenly confused, but understanding Hershel. 

"Don't worry yourselves too much," Hershel told him. "I understand the lifestyle, now go on." 

Paul gives the older man a quick clap on the shoulder before running off to his truck, climbing into the driver's seat. Alex gets in the back while Daryl gets into the passenger's seat, looking only marginally less confused than either Paul or Alex that he ended up in Paul's truck. Paul shoots Daryl a smile, starting the truck and speeding out of the driveway. 

"We'll figure it out later," he says. 

Daryl nods and picks up the receiver. "Talk to me, Rosita," he says. 

" _Take the highway south,_ " Rosita says. " _I'll tell you more when we get closer._ " 

Daryl snorts and puts the receiver down, settling back in his seat. Paul glances at the rear view mirror at Alex, who's looking a little lost that he's in the truck rather than the house. 

"Don't think too much on it," Paul says, smiling when Alex looks at him. "Sometimes, it just happens like that; you get caught up and you're not quite sure what happened until later." 

"Is that how it's always like when you guys get an alert?" Alex asks. 

"Pretty much," Daryl replies. 

Alex makes a small "huh" sound and leaves it at that, settling back in his seat with his face more at ease. It's quiet for almost half an hour, Paul driving steadily south, glancing occasionally at the slowly darkening sky. Daryl eventually picks up the receiver, scowling at the rapidly passing landscape outside. 

"How much further?" he asks. 

" _A few miles,_ " Rosita replies. " _The off-ramp should be coming up soon, but I assume you both know where to go by now._ " 

"Wouldn't know," Daryl sasses. 

They hear Rosita laugh before it's quiet again, so Daryl puts the receiver down. Paul gets them off the highway and down a narrow road, chewing on his lower lip as he drives. He slows down a little so he can grab the receiver. 

"Might want to hold back a bit for now," he says. 

He hears a chorus of protests, even a minor one from Alex. Paul rolls his eyes and continues. 

"You know I don't say that shit lightly," he says. "Hold back. We'll call you when it's safe." 

There's still some protesting, but it quiets into reluctant agreement. 

" _Be safe out there,_ " Glenn grumbles. 

"Always," Paul says before putting the receiver down and accelerating again. 

A couple miles later, it starts raining. Daryl notices the way Paul's fingers tighten on the steering wheel, making no move to put the wipers on, so he does it for him. 

"Gotta see, don't ya?" he questions when Paul shoots him a look. 

Paul bobs his head and goes back to the road, slowing considerably when he spots their target out the window. He hears Daryl grumble about being too slow, so he speeds up, keeping an eye on the road and the tornado outside. His attention is drawn to the back seat when Alex's phone starts ringing, biting his lip when Daryl groans unhappily. 

"Hello?" Alex's voice is just a hair shaky; he clears his throat and tries again. "Danny, now is not the time to be asking me about my schedule." There's a pause, then, "What do you mean Ms. Bovino's got an appointment today? Her next one's not until next week." He groans and there's a muffled thump, as though Alex just hit his head on the back cushion. "She's pulling your leg, Danny. She just wants to see me because she's a perverted old lady." 

Paul tunes him out, trying to focus on getting them past the tornado rapidly catching up on them. 

"This ain't gonna work," Daryl murmurs. 

"No shit," Paul shoots back. "Right now, I'm just trying to get us past this thing so we don't end up at the bottom of the lake." 

The rain picks up and so does the wind, buffeting the truck along the road. Paul's fingers tighten on the wheel, doing his best to keep his foot on the gas despite wanting to stop and wait for the storm to pass. He blinks in bafflement when something small and golden-tan passes in front of the truck in a flurry of feathers. 

"Chicken?" he queries. 

Daryl nods. "Guess that's why the chicken crossed the road," he replies. 

Paul snorts in amusement, unable to contain a small laugh when there's another flurry of feathers in front of the truck. 

"'Nother chicken," he says. 

"Pretty sure it's the same one," Daryl says. "Dumb bastard don't know how t'cross a road right." 

"That's terrible," Paul says. 

"Got you outta yer panic, didn' it?" Daryl says with a small smirk. 

Paul hums softly. "For now," he replies softly. "Still have to get us out of here safely." 

"Not sure there is a safe way outta this one," Daryl murmurs, leaning forward to look out the windshield. 

"Because that makes me feel better," Paul says sarcastically. 

"Sorry." 

Silence descends in the truck, only broken by Alex's conversation with his fellow physical therapist. Paul tries focusing on the man's voice, but it doesn't help. He jumps when he feels Daryl grip his arm tight and that's all it takes to make him slam on the brakes, Alex crying out in surprise at the sudden stop. 

"What the hell?" 

"Hang on!" 

In the ensuing minutes, the truck gets spun around, bouncing on the road, banging against the guardrails before coming to a stop somewhere near the middle of the road, facing the way they came. The wind dies down, but it's still raining, splattering against the windshield in gentle drops. Paul picks his head up from where he dropped down on the steering wheel, peering around cautiously, seeing Daryl do the same out of the corner of his eye. Alex is suspiciously quiet in the back seat; one glance at the rear view reveals his pale, wide-eyed face, lips pressed together tightly. Paul clears his throat and sits up, turning the car off before turning in his seat. 

"We all alright?" he asks. 

"Ain't happy, but 'm a'right," Daryl replies. 

"Alex?" Paul asks, turning to face the man when he remains quiet. "Talk to me, Alex." 

"How do you keep doing this?" Alex asks softly. 

"It's not always like this," Paul replies. "We usually don't have this many close calls one after the other." 

"'S jus' unfortunate luck," Daryl puts in. 

"But how do you do this?" Alex repeats. "How do you keep going out knowing something like this might happen?" 

"Any bit of data's worth it," Daryl replies. 

"But you haven't been collecting data," Alex says, suddenly peeved, frowning deep. "You've just been chasing these things and not caring what happens." 

"There's data catchers on the outside of the truck," Daryl says. "Had Rosita put 'em on just in cases." 

"You modified our truck without asking?" Alex asks, aghast. 

"Ain't like they'll hurt the truck," Daryl gripes, scowling. "Y'can take 'em off easy an' not have a mark on 'em." 

"And the dings and dents from the guardrails and other shit flying around?" Alex gripes back. 

"Hazard o' the job," Daryl says simply. 

"This isn't either of our jobs!" Alex rants. "This is _your_ job. We just got sucked into this mess because you can't seem to figure out how to sign some goddamn papers! If you did, we'd still be in Texas and happily married, but instead we had to drive out here to the fucking back woods of Kansas and track you down so Paul can be free of your dumb ass!" 

" _Wow,_ " Tara's voice pipes up from the dashboard after a long, tense silence. " _Talk about being an asshole, but aside from that, is everything good?_ " 

Daryl picks up the receiver. "All clear," he growls. 

" _Okie-doke,_ " Tara says. " _Hey, since it's getting legit dark out, we ought to find a place to crash tonight. There's a motel and drive-in not far from here; sound good?_ " 

Paul gently takes the receiver from Daryl. "Whatever works," he says. "We'll meet you guys there; the one off Lakeside, right?" 

" _That's the one!_ " Tara chirps. " _See you guys soon._ " 

The radio goes quiet, so Paul puts the receiver down. He looks between Alex and Daryl, face serious yet thoughtful. 

"We can discuss this once we get our rooms," he says. "Fair?" 

Daryl nods silently; Alex shrugs with a muttered, "Whatever." 

Paul turns to sit in his seat properly, starting the truck back up and driving down the road, getting back on the highway, fingers tapping idly on the steering wheel. They soon arrive at the motel and drive-in, the attendant at the gate waving them in when they mentioned they were part of the caravan that was already inside. Paul parked the truck in front of the small motel, throwing it in park before turning it off and leaning back with a soft sigh. Daryl immediately climbs out, making his way over to the caravan, clearly looking for someone with the way his head swiveled back and forth. 

"I'll go get us checked in," Alex murmurs, also climbing out of the truck. 

He disappears into the building marked 'Reception', leaving Paul alone inside the truck. He's still there when Alex comes back, a pair of keys clutched in one hand. He graces Paul with a small smile before he starts rooting around in the back, digging out a large duffel and hauling it over his shoulder. 

"Room 16, when you're ready," he says and turns, heading over to the door with the right number on it, unlocking it and walking in, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

Paul stays in the truck for a while after that before finally climbing out, debating briefly with himself as he looks between the caravan and the motel room. He wants to go inside the room, take another shower, fall into bed, and not move until the morning, but he's not sure he wants to deal with Alex's grousing and griping at the moment. Instead, he walks over to the caravan, nodding to himself when he sees every vehicle and person is accounted for. He stops near Doppler, where Tara's sitting on a chair inside, tapping idly at the keyboard in front of her. 

"You know," she says after a couple minutes of silence, still tapping at the keyboard. "I got the vibe your guy was a bit of a dick, but not, like, a whole dick; maybe half of one. Turns out he really is the whole dick and dangly balls." She stops typing and spins the chair to face Paul, frowning. "I can see why you like him, because Daryl gives off similar vibes, but unlike Daryl, your guy doesn't have that hidden heart of gold. At least, not one I've seen so far." She tilts her head, squinting a bit. "Is he really that great in bed that you just forget he's actually a douchebag?" 

"You done insulting my fiancé?" Paul asks, raising a brow. 

"Give me all night," Tara replies with a smirk, "but I'll keep them to myself, or wait for a more receptive audience." 

Paul rolls his eyes. "What's the plan for tonight and tomorrow?" he asks. 

"So far, a whole lot of bupkis," Tara replies, turning back to the monitor. "We're definitely getting some rain tonight, possibly some thunder and lightning, _maybe_ a chance of something more?" She squints and pokes a button, nodding. "Yeah, but it's so minor, it's not even worth mentioning to anyone else." She shrugs and turns back to Paul. "We're still working on plans for tomorrow, but I'm sure someone will let you know so you two can get home safe." 

Paul nods and thanks her quietly. She smiles at him and turns back to her monitor, appearing to become absorbed in the data and images on the screen. Paul figures he's stalled long enough and makes for the motel, pausing at the door, chewing on his lip. He reaches out and opens the door, spitting out a "Fuck!" when his knee suddenly gives out on him, causing him to stumble into the room. He waves off Alex and his concerned face, hobbling over to the bed and dropping heavily onto it with a displeased grumble. He watches Alex disappear into the bathroom and come back out with a tube of cream, a bottle of pills, a knee brace, and a wrist brace. 

"I don't need all that," Paul says, idly rubbing his knee. 

"Most of this is just in case," Alex retorts, dropping the items on the bed next to Paul. "Keep them in easy reach when you do need them." He looks Paul up and down, brows furrowed. "How's your head and wrist?" 

"Manageable," Paul replies shortly, grabbing the knee brace and pills and putting them on the night stand. "Might need something later, but I might not. We'll see." He unbuttons his pants and carefully wiggles out of them, unable to help the winces and grimaces of pain. 

"Should've done this earlier," Alex mumbles, kneeling down to help Paul. 

"We didn't know," Paul says, lifting his feet when Alex nudges them. "I mean, I could've put the brace on and taken something, but it's not like we were planning on going anywhere. We had time." 

Alex hums, remaining quiet as he folds Paul's pants and puts them on the bed before grabbing the tube and opening it. They both make a face at the smell of the ointment when Alex dribbles some on Paul's knee, recapping the tube and tossing it on the bed. Slowly, he starts massaging the gel into Paul's skin, murmuring apologies every time Paul's leg twitches or he hisses in pain. He glances up when he hears velcro snapping, nodding in approval when he sees Paul wrapping his wrist in the brace. 

"I hate this," Paul murmurs, fiddling with the velcro once it's secure. 

"Which part?" Alex queries, letting his hands relax against Paul's knee. "The pain part or the getting roped into bullshit part?" 

"Both." Paul flops back onto the bed with a sigh. "But I hate how easy it is to get roped back into doing this shit more than I hate being in pain all the time." 

"Maybe you weren't ready to let it go," Alex says, shrugging when Paul's head pops up to stare at him. "I'm just saying. You've been chasing most of your adult life; hell, you went to college for it, and you basically quit cold turkey after a particularly bad encounter." He smiles, gently tapping Paul's leg. "I see how much you still love it, could tell every time you told me a story how much you missed being out on the road in the middle of it all." His lips twist into a frown as he looks away briefly. "I know I sound and act like it, but I'm not mad about it, not really. If anything, I'm more disappointed I couldn't be enough for you." 

Paul frowns. "If you're planning on breaking up with me..." 

"Maybe I am," Alex says before Paul can finish, standing and carefully straddling Paul when the man tries protesting. "I love you, Paul; more than I can ever really say or show you, but I can't compete with something like this. I thought I could be enough or even somehow be better than your past, but I see now that I was just deluding myself, and you, to some extent." He swallows and cups Paul's face. "Maybe when we're older and you finally get this shit out of your system for good, we can try again. I might actually turn out to be a better, calmer man in that time, too." He smiles sadly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Paul's lips before climbing off him. 

He moves around the room, picking up a full duffel near the closet. He chews on his lower lip as he shoulders the bag, digging into one of his pockets and pulls out a key fob and key. He puts it on the dresser before reaching up to pull a ring off his finger and placing it down next to the key. He looks back over to Paul, who had sat up and was looking at Alex with wide eyes. 

"I really am sorry to do it like this," Alex says. "I'll see you later, Paul." 

He turns and leaves the room, shutting the door with a soft click. Paul stares at the closed door for many long minutes before finally flopping back with an aggravated sigh, hands coming up to scrub at his face. He presses his palms into his eyes, trying to pretend the tears falling are from the new pain rather than heartbreak. He inhales shakily and lets his hands fall to his sides, frowning up at the ceiling. 

"Asshole." 

He's not sure how long he stares at the ceiling, but it's dark outside when someone comes knocking. 

"Jesus?" There's more knocking, then, "It's Maggie. Haven't seen you come out for dinner yet." 

Paul sighs. "It's open," he says just loud enough for Maggie to hear. 

He hears the door open and close, hears Maggie's footsteps on the soft carpet, sees her face come into his field of view, brows furrowed in concern. 

"Saw Alex leave with a bag a few hours ago," she says. "Went into another room. Everythin' a'right?" 

"We're not getting married," Paul mumbles, looking away when Maggie's eyes widen in surprise. "Said he couldn't compete with all this." He waves a hand vaguely to empasize before continuing. "Said I needed to get it out of my system before we tried again." He looks over when he feels the bed dip, biting at his lower lip. "I'm pretty sure he was bullshitting me. He's not coming back to me." 

"You don't know that," Maggie says. 

"Everyone who leaves never comes back," Paul retorts, scowling when Maggie opens her mouth. "You guys don't count because I keep coming back on my own. I mean, look at right now; I came back to you guys, maybe a little nefariously, but that was all me. Not any of you." He lets out a gusty sigh. "The only guy to ever stick around was Daryl, but that's only because he's too damn stubborn for his own good." 

Maggie chuckles softly. "He is that," she agrees. 

"He doesn't know how to let go," Paul continues over Maggie. "None of this would've happened had he did what I asked all those months ago. I would've been married to Alex by now, probably would be sharing a home full-time with him and everything. Maybe adopted a dog or something, I don't know." He scowls at the ceiling. "Instead, I'm rubbing elbows with the corn and wheat fields of Kansas, alone and newly single with all these emotions I tried so hard to box up because I didn't want to deal with them like a reasonable human being." 

"We've got a few clear days coming up," Maggie says softly. "Maybe you can deal with those emotions and whatever's going on with you and Daryl then." 

"Maybe," Paul agrees, a little reluctantly. "Don't know if Daryl would be up for it." 

"You'd be surprised," Maggie says pragmatically, smiling when Paul frowns at her. She nudges his side. "Anyway, get up. I know you haven't eaten yet, so let's go." 

She nudges at him until he eventually gets up, helping him back into his pants once she realized the pain he was in. Paul shakes his head when she throws him a questioning look and they leave it at that. They slowly make their way out of the room and over to the concession stand, ordering their food before sitting at one of the tables outside. Paul gets distracted by the movie showing on one of the screens, idly eating his food while he watches. He snaps to attention when Maggie snorts in amusement and he realizes he dribbled ketchup on his shirt. He makes a face and wipes at it with a napkin, dipping it in water before trying again without much success. He throws the sodden napkin at Maggie when she keeps giggling, smiling when she lets out an offended yelp while trying to dodge the projectile. 

"That's what you get," he says, picking up some fries and eating them. 

"Asshole," Maggie retorts affectionately. 

They finish their food not long after that, Maggie picking up the trash and slapping at Paul's hands when he tries to help. While she's off to dispose of the trash, Paul looks over and sees Daryl not too far off, staring at the sky with narrow eyes. Concern and worry flash over Paul's face, so he slowly gets up and walks over, tilting his head when Daryl glances at him. 

"Everything alright?" he asks. 

"Got a feelin'," Daryl mumbles, looking back at the sky. "Ain't a good one, neither." 

Paul blinks and looks up at the sky, trying to see what Daryl's seeing. He can't see any stars, but he expected that when Tara told him they were getting rain. He squints when lightning flashes in the distance, the storm too far away to hear it's thunder, yet something does start feeling off the longer he stares at the dark sky. He glances at Daryl. 

"Think we should say something?" he asks. 

"Not yet," Daryl replies immediately. "Don't wanna cause a panic too soon, 'specially if it turns out t'be nothin'." 

"Fair enough." Paul nods and goes back to looking at the sky, leaning a little into Daryl, telling himself it was because of his knee and nothing more. 

Daryl shifts to accommodate Paul, planting his feet firmly so they don't tumble to the ground. They start hearing the thunder accompanying the lightning; faint, but getting closer. The wind also starts to slowly pick up, but it's not yet cause for concern. For all they know, it could just be a bad thunderstorm heading their way, which would be enough to get inside somewhere to avoid being soaked or struck by lightning. Paul glances over at the caravan, frowning when he sees Tara jump out of Doppler, face awash with worry as she runs over to the Winnebago, banging on the door. He jumps when there's a particularly loud crack of thunder, jumping again when he feels Daryl's arm wrap around his waist. 

"Time t'go," Daryl says. 

"How bad do you think?" Paul asks, following Daryl's lead as the older man guides him towards the caravan. 

"Bad." 

"Shit." Paul looks around quickly. "We need to let everyone know." 

"Rosita's got this," Daryl says, nodding to Rosita when she runs past them, skidding to a stop at the concession stand and banging on the glass. "She'll get ev'ryone t'safety." 

"Only if you're sure," Paul says dubiously. 

Daryl hums softly, guiding Paul through the caravan and into the garage they're parked in front of. Already, there's people huddled inside, down in the well, every one of them looking some level of terrified. Paul sees Alex among them and breathes a small sigh of relief, smiling when the man looks up and sees him. Alex returns the smile before looking back down, arms wrapped around his knees. He and Daryl get down into the well, cramming themselves in next to Jerry and Maggie. 

"Gonna have to bend that knee," Daryl murmurs, tapping the outstretched leg. 

"Can't," Paul says. "Damn thing would lock up if I tried." 

Daryl scowls at Paul and carefully climbs over the outstretched leg, settling down quick enough just as a mass of people scramble down into the well. Seconds later, it's like the floodgates have opened and people start panicking. The wind picks up into a howling gust, rattling and taking off some of the tin roof of the garage, debris being whipped around in a frenzy. Paul can see outside, can see the way the frequent lightning lights up the swirling clouds and he ducks his head, fingers clutching tight to Daryl's shirt. They all collectively jump when the air compression hose lifts off, adding a whining shriek to the cacophony around them while it's flails around. Jerry gets up quickly to grab the hose, crying out in triumph when he finally gets it, all but falling back down to avoid getting hurt by any debris, fingers grasping tight to the hose. 

"Fuckin' maniac," Daryl grouses. 

"Someone had to do it," Jerry retorts. "Would've hurt someone otherwise." 

"And everything else flying around would just bounce harmlessly off people, sure," Paul deadpans, earning a chuckle from Daryl. 

They both duck their heads further when a tire rim bounces off the concrete wall above them, narrowly missing both their heads. Paul feels Daryl shaking the louder the wind gets, feels the man's full-body flinch when a car's thrown into the garage, quickly followed by the garage's neon sign, sending sparks flying. He hears others screaming or crying, louder now with the storm dying down. There's still some lightning and thunder, but the wind calms as the storm moves on, off to terrorize somewhere else. Almost immediately, people start standing and walking out of the garage, the need to move and see the damage too much of a siren's call for most. Paul waves off Maggie and Jerry when they give him equal looks of concern, shaking his head when Maggie opens her mouth. She scowls at him, but leaves it at that as she stands and follows the line of people outside. When they're more-or-less alone, Paul gently wraps his arms around Daryl, bumping their heads together. 

"Storm's over," he murmurs. "We're all here, and we're all safe. Wherever you went in your head, come back." 

"Yer bedside manner's fer shit," Daryl grumbles, pulling away a bit. 

"I'm a damn sight better than you, I'll have you know," Paul retorts with a small smile. "You good?" 

"No." 

Daryl pulls away completely and stands, groaning softly as he stretches. He doesn't say anything else as he helps Paul stand, waiting to know the younger man can stand on his own before leading him up and out. Maggie comes up to them when she sees them, looking at them both with concern. 

"Y'all a'right?" she asks. 

"Not quite, but we will be," Paul replies after glancing at Daryl. "I'm thinking a good night's rest might be just what we need." 

"We might not get that," Tara says quietly from behind Maggie. She grimaces, fingers fidgeting. "That storm that just passed? It's making a straight shot for Eureka." 

Maggie's eyes widen, her face paling. "We gotta go," she says. 

"We're going," Tara says. "Just gotta let everyone else know, which is what I was going to do after telling you." 

With that, she spins and runs off. Maggie turns and runs off to the Winnebago, frantically waving Glenn into the driver's seat. Paul jogs over to his truck, Daryl following close behind him, pleased to see his truck didn't retain any damage from the storm. He goes to climb into the driver's seat when Daryl stops him, nudging him towards the passenger's side without a word. 

"I can drive, you know," Paul snips. 

Daryl grunts and leaves Paul next to the truck, running into the younger's room and coming out with his duffel and the truck keys. Paul starts to climb into the truck when he spots Alex coming up, face pale but neutral. The taller man smiles at Paul. 

"I know you're in a hurry," he says, "and I know this is probably the last time we'll be seeing each other for a while, so I came to see you off." 

"I won't be gone that long," Paul says. "It's not like I'm disappearing forever." 

"Still might take a month to get you back to Texas," Alex says, lightly teasing. 

"For all you know, a storm might get me back to Texas sooner," Paul says. 

"Maybe," Alex says, bobbing his head, then glances over at Daryl. "I'm getting a ride from the police to the airport tonight, so don't worry about coming back here to get me." 

He leans forward to press a kiss to Paul's cheek before leaning back. He nods once to Daryl and turns, heading to his motel room, presumably to gather his things. Paul shakes his head when Daryl turns to stare at him, climbing into the truck and shutting his door. Daryl does the same, tossing Paul's duffel into the back before starting the truck and driving out, the rest of the caravan following. They speed down the highway toward Eureka in a tense silence, slowing once they get into town, carefully maneuvering around downed trees and power lines. Paul stares out the window, eyes skittering over the destruction, over the people wandering around. 

"They had no warning," he mumbles. "All the data we gather, and it's still not enough." 

"Night twister," Daryl mumbles. "Harder t'predict an' track." His fingers tighten on the steering wheel. "Lot more dangerous." 

Paul hums softly, neither agreeing or disagreeing. They carefully navigate the wrecked streets, slowly inching down the muddy driveway to Hershel's. They stop and stare when they round the corner and the house comes into view; or, well, what's left of it. 

"Fuck." 

Daryl throws the truck in park and jumps out, Paul not too far behind, swearing at his uncooperative knee. He hears Maggie's frantic calls for her dad and Beth, running past him, crawling on the crumbled structure next to Daryl. Paul gets to the base in time to see Daryl grip Maggie's arm when she tries crawling inside an open window. 

"Y'ain't thinkin' right now," he tells her when she glares at him. "Ain't riskin' ya slippin' an' fallin'." 

Maggie opens her mouth to speak, but snaps her mouth closed when there's a sound from within the house, someone calling Maggie's name. 

"Beth?!" Maggie ducks her head inside the window, calling out again, "Beth! Is Daddy with you?" 

Paul can't hear her reply, but he knows it's not good, not with that devastated look on Maggie's face when she pulls out. She turns wide, wet eyes to Daryl; he nods silently. 

"I'll get 'em," he says. "Find me a flashlight, would ya?" 

Maggie nods and runs off the house, tripping as she goes. Glenn catches her before she can fall and she gives him a wobbly smile before running off to the Winnebago. She comes back a minute later with a flashlight clutched tightly in her hand. She scrambles back up the house, handing it off to Daryl and all but shoving the man inside the house. Paul can't help the snort of amusement when he hears Daryl grousing at Maggie as he disappears inside the house. 

It's a tense several minutes that Daryl's inside the house, their only indication he's alright is his calling to Beth, trying to keep the young woman calm. The house creaks and groans, ready to collapse entirely. Maggie scrambles off the house when parts of it start shifting, the creaking and groaning getting louder. They're all collectively sure the house will fall inward, effectively trapping or even killing Daryl, Beth, and Hershel, but then they see Beth slowly climbing out of the window. She has a nasty cut on her head and she's not moving her right arm all that much, but aside from that and the dust and dirt covering her, she appears alright. She smiles at Maggie as she slowly climbs down to the ground, hugging her sister tightly, faces buried in each others neck. They pull apart enough to look at each other, Maggie bringing one hand up to wipe at the dirt on Beth's face. 

"I'm alright," Beth says. "Some bumps an' bruises an' I think my arm's broken, but I'm fine." She looks up to the house, face crumpling. "Daddy wasn't wakin' up. I tried, but he wouldn't wake up." She turns back to Maggie, eyes wide and scared. "I didn't know what to do." 

"Is he...?" Maggie asks softly. 

Beth shakes her head. "He woke up," she replies. "He was fadin' in an' out, but Daryl got him up an' movin'. That's why it's takin' so long." 

"Someone should go help them," Paul says. 

Maggie shakes her head, saying, "Not you; not with your knee." She turns to Glenn, who simply nods and starts climbing, steps quick but careful. 

He disappears into the house, calling out Daryl's name. Maggie clings to Beth, holding her sister close. They all jump when there's a loud bang from within the house, quickly followed by a slew of cursing and worried chatter. The outside walls appear to shudder when there's another bang and the whole structure lurches to one side. 

"Are they gonna make it?" Beth asks quietly. 

"They'll make it," Maggie assures, but her tone belies her. She pets Beth's hair. "They'll make it." 

The house continues making ominous noises, but finally Glenn peeks his head out, a smattering of dirt on one cheek. 

"Get an ambulance!" he calls as he climbs out of the window. 

Paul hears a chorus of yelling behind him, but his eyes are on the window. He soon sees the battered form of Hershel slowly and painfully climbing out, gripping tightly to Glenn as the younger man helps him. Paul watches Daryl climb out after Hershel and sighs softly, watching Daryl take up Hershel's other side and between him and Glenn, they get Hershel down to solid ground. The older man doesn't appear to be entirely aware of what's going on, looking around dazedly with wide eyes. He smiles when he lays eyes on Maggie and Beth, grunting softly when they both run to him, wrapping themselves around him. 

"I'm alright," Hershel says. 

"You just had a house fall down on you," Glenn points out. "I think alright is a little far from where you are right now." 

"House is fine, I'm fine," Hershels mumbles as they start moving away from the house. He looks up and smiles at Paul. "We're all fine with Jesus around. Yes, we are." 

Paul gives Hershel a small smile, joining the small group walking away from the house, toward the ambulance coming up the driveway. They get Hershel situated on a stretcher and Beth with a pressure bandage and a brace. Everyone jumps when the house lets out several bangs, spinning almost as one to watch the house lurch again and finally collapse into a heap. Hershel let out a distressed moan, falling back on the stretcher. Paul turns to Maggie, glancing briefly at Hershel. 

"How is he?" he asks. 

"They're pretty sure he has a nasty concussion an' he might lose his leg," Maggie replies, swallowing thickly. "Some bumps and bruises, but they're not sure on anythin' else 'til they get to the hospital." 

"I'm tellin' ya, I can drive to the hospital myself," Hershel insists in a frustrated tone. 

"Daddy, yer truck's up a tree 'round the corner," Maggie says. 

Hershel gripes a bit more, but concedes after being told about his truck again. They load him into the ambulance, Beth climbing in after him. She tilts her head at Maggie with a small smile. 

"I'll keep an eye on him," she says. "If anythin' happens, I'll let you know soon as I can." 

"Thank you," Maggie murmurs, climbing up to hug Beth again before climbing back out. 

The doors shut and the ambulance peels off, sirens wailing. Paul looks around for Daryl, the man having disappeared not long after the ambulance came. He finds the man not too far off, hands in his pockets and staring at a mangled metal structure. 

"Everything alright?" Paul asks. 

Daryl silently shakes his head, still staring at the structure. Paul blinks and looks at the structure himself, tilting his head a bit before looking back at Daryl. 

"What is it?" 

"Think I might'a figured out Dottie's problem," Daryl mumbles. 

Confused, Paul looks back to the structure, looking it up and down before it finally clicks and his face lights up in understanding. 

"Oh!" 

Daryl finally turns to Paul, smiling. "Yeah, that," he says. "C'mon. We got shit t'do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gave me a bit of grief, mostly on account that I needed some filler before the final act. I kept wondering "how do I make this good, but also at a similar length of the previous chapters?", because if it was just the final act, it would seem hella lackluster, especially for a final chapter, y'know?
> 
> So, I threw in some chronic pain...because one can't get literally thrown around by an EF5 (or whacked with baseball/softball sized hail) without some lasting problems. I also tossed in the Oklahoma Incident, or more-or-less what Paul's brain remembers of it. Bits of it are kinda hand-wavy woo-woo, but it is what it is.

_The day started out like any other day. Wake up, have coffee, make a plan of attack. They already knew their target was Oklahoma, but the when and where exactly were still up in the air.  
_

_"Looks like a pretty good day for chasing," Paul remarked._

_Daryl hummed, preoccupied by the data scrolling on his computer. Paul rolled his eyes affectionately, nudging the other man's coffee cup closer to him, grinning when the other man scowled at him, but grabbed the cup and took a swallow._

_They made their plan, told the crew, and set out for central Oklahoma. Throughout the day, Paul ignored the feeling that something was wrong, that they might be setting themselves up for trouble. They converged with other chasers, every one of them waiting for the right moment. Some start taking off around four, presumably to get into a better position. They wait until almost five, when both Paul and Daryl decide it's the best time to get moving. The sky's clouding over, blotting out the sun, rotating in a tell-tale way. Not too long after, sirens start wailing and Paul and Daryl share a look. Paul picks up the receiver._

_"Plan's a go," he says. "You all know what to do."_

_"Plan's A, B, C, and D," Rosita said._

_"All the way to Z," Abraham quipped. "Shit might get hairy out there, and we all know it."_

_"Stay safe, everyone," Glenn puts in, to the chorus of the same from everyone. "Don't do anything stupid, either."_

_"That mostly means Team Alpha," Maggie teased, her grin obvious._

_"Fuck off," Paul said, causing a round of laughter. "Seriously, though. Safety is your top priority right now, especially with how dangerous this could get. Gathering data means shit if it means putting your life, or anyone else's, at too serious a risk."_

_"You going to take heed of your own advice for once?" Rosita asked._

_"We'll certainly try," Paul replied._

_He then puts the receiver down and peers at his computer, glancing up occasionally at the dark sky. They navigate around gridlocks and other chasers, keeping a careful eye on the skies and radar. Sometime after six, Paul looks up and nudges Daryl, pointing._

_"There; she's starting to spin up."_

_Seconds later, the tornado's on the ground, several more following the first and spinning around each other. They dance as they spin before coalescing into one giant wedge and heading right for them._

_"Shit." Paul's eyes widen when Daryl stops the truck and jumps out. "What the hell are you doing?"_

_"Ain't wastin' no opportunity," Daryl calls back, running to the back of the truck. "Gonna deploy a probe."_

_Paul jumps out to help despite shouting, "You're going to get us both killed doing this!"_

_Daryl scoffs and pulls out a probe, slim but heavy, staring briefly at the tornado before putting it down. Paul jogs past him with another one, skidding to a stop to drop his probe before running back. He sees the other chasers on the road scrambling into their vehicles, honking their horns frantically as they speed away from the tornado. His hair whips around him and he's vaguely aware that he should've listened to himself, but he shoves it and his anxiety aside, jumping back into the truck and focusing on where to go now. Daryl jumps in seconds later and they drive off, fleeing east with a caravan of other vehicles, trying to stay at a steady clip despite the others and the wind hammering their truck._

_"Highway 81's coming up," Paul said. "We ought to get on there and head south."_

_"Nah," Daryl said. "Prob'bly got it blocked. Dumbasses."_

_"Still doesn't mean we shouldn't try," Paul said, frowning._

_Daryl simply shakes his head and speeds past the highway, heading east to most everyone else's south, ignoring Paul's irritated grumbling._

_"Should put down more probes," he said, glancing over when Paul scoffs._

_"We have a massive tornado chasing us and you want us to deploy probes?" Paul asked._

_"Would mostly be you since I ain't puttin' this thing in park," Daryl replied, glancing at his side mirror. "We got time."_

_"Not nearly enough time," Paul said, frowning fiercely when Daryl slowed the truck. "You're seriously suggesting I risk my life to put out a few more probes?"_

_"We need the data," Daryl said simply._

_"There'll be other tornados, Daryl," Paul rebuffed. "Ones where neither of us have to weigh the pros and cons of life and death."_

_"Jus' wastin' time, Paul," Daryl said, seemingly ignoring everything the other man said._

_Paul made a frustrated noise. "Fine!" He pulls his hair back into a tight bun, throwing the older man a scowl. "Once I get the probe out, start driving. If you go less than twenty, I'll be able to catch up."_

_With that, he opened the door, pausing long enough for the initial burst of wind and rain before jumping out. He slams the door shut and goes to the back, sliding a probe out and nodding to Daryl, who was watching him in the rear view. Immediately, the truck starts forward and Paul turns to the tornado, swallowing heavily at the sight of the thing. He jogs forward several paces, trying to ignore the shivery feeling of fear and anxiety crawling up and down his spine. He looks back up at the tornado briefly before he puts the probe down, quickly straightening and spinning around to run back to the truck. He grimaces when the wind picks up and he gets buffeted by rain, mud, and bits of grass. Lightning slices through the sky, thunder quickly following and Paul can't help the flinch, ducking his head ineffectively._

_He makes it to the back of the truck, slamming the door closed when pain suddenly explodes over his right shoulder. He shouts in surprise and pain, tumbling to the ground. He's not quite sure what just happened, but he knows he can't ponder about it now, not when he's on the ground in the path of a dangerous tornado. He looks up to see the truck stopped and Daryl jumping out, running towards him with his face awash with worry._

_"I'm alright," he said, though he can't help grimacing at the overwhelming pain in his shoulder._

_"Y'just got whacked with a softball-sized piece o'hail," Daryl retorted, taking Paul's hand and helping him up. "Kinda thinkin' yer a bit aways from a'right."_

_"Let's just get out of here before we get sucked into this thing," Paul said, jaw clenched, waving Daryl away when he tried to help. "Go on. Get moving."_

_He and Daryl run back to the truck, Daryl jumping in easily while Paul takes a bit of wiggling, grunting a bit when every move jostles his shoulder. He gets the door shut and Daryl steps on the gas, glancing behind them in the rear view mirror, then over at Paul. Paul shakes his head._

_"There's nothing we can do about it right now," he said, wrapping his right arm around his middle, fingers gripping tight to his shirt. "Just focus on getting us out of here."_

_"Gotta be in a helluva lot o'pain right now," Daryl mumbled._

_"I'm pretty sure my shoulder was just shattered," Paul said tightly, smiling grimly when Daryl sucks in a breath. "I know nothing but pain right now and I kind of want to scream with every bump, but none of that will matter if we don't make it out of here."_

_Daryl's quiet, fingers tight on the steering wheel as he stares ahead. Eventually, his shoulders drop, sighing deeply._

_"'M sorry," he mumbled._

_Paul blinks, asking, "For what?"_

_"Makin' y'go out," Daryl replied. "Y'wouldn't o'gotten hurt if I didn' make y'drop a probe."_

_"Hazards of the job, right?" Paul teases, smiling when Daryl grunts and shrugs. "Honestly, I don't blame you. If I really didn't want to, I would've fought harder."_

_Daryl hums and the truck goes quiet. The pain in Paul's shoulder is agonizing and he does his best to focus on their situation. He divides whatever attention he can spare between the data scrolling on one computer, the live radar on another, and the tornado behind them. His attention slowly focuses entirely on the tornado, now monstrous in size and likely pulling winds higher than they can safely deal with. There's also the added danger of the multiple vortices within the larger tornado, the hail, and the debris field. The bad feeling in Paul's gut returns as the sky darkens to black, their headlights and the frequent lightning their only source of light. Rain, hail, and debris hammers their truck, the wind pulling them all over the road and almost into the ditch._

_"We should've gone south," Paul murmured, hissing as the truck's jerked along the road again._

_"Shoulda gone north," Daryl retorted. "We'd've prob'bly gotten outta this mess sooner."_

_Paul scoffs just as the radio crackles to life, Maggie's voice coming through._

_"Jus' checkin' in with ev'ryone," she said. "Gonna need a roll call."_

_Paul picks up the receiver as everyone's calling in. "We're still here," he said. "Might be in a bit of a pickle, but we're fine." He briefly drops the receiver to swat at Daryl when the man snorts._

_"Elaborate," Maggie said, voice hard._

_"We might have the tornado chasing us," Paul replied quickly, licking his lips, "and it might be winning."_

_"What!?" Maggie's squawk is swallowed up by the others chiming in. Her voice comes through over the din, "What the hell do you mean by that?"_

_"I mean, we have a two-mile wide, who-knows-how-many-miles an hour tornado on our ass," Paul said tightly. "There's probably also other vortices hiding within this beast, which means if one of them hits us just right, we're fucked." He grunts when the truck veers, hears Daryl curse, trying to straighten the vehicle. "We're in the bear cage right now, and it's a special sort of something, so if you don't hear from us in, like, fifteen minutes, you know why."_

_Paul hears Maggie reply, but it's drowned out by their windows suddenly shattering. The truck jerks and bounces and suddenly they're in the air. Paul spares a terrified look at Daryl before they're rolled and thrown back down, the impact with the ground causing Paul to hit his head. There's a nauseating feeling of spinning and a piercing pain in several parts of his body before Paul's world finally black's out._

~ 

Paul jolts awake with a gasp, sitting upright and shivering. He's covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his shoulder aching, and head pounding, but all he can think of is the flash images he sees every time he blinks. He had never fully recovered the memories from that day, the multiple hits to his head ensuring that, but sometimes they came to him in his dreams, slipping away once he wakes up. He just had to wait for his brain to fully engage and the memories would fade away until the next time his brain wanted to relive the trauma. 

He breathes slowly, eventually becoming aware of the pounding in his skull, the dull ache in his shoulder, and the sweat on his skin. He grimaces and eases himself out of bed, pressing a hand to the side of his head as he limps into the bathroom. He wipes at his skin with a towel absently and is contemplating between showering and the best course of action for his multiple aches when there's a knock on his door. He tosses the towel aside before shuffling out of the bathroom and to the door, opening the door and giving the person there his meanest scowl. It turns into a glower when he hears a soft chuckle. 

"Bad pain day?" Daryl asks him. 

"Fuck off," Paul grouses, shuffling back into the room, leaving the door, and thus the invitation, open. "What do you want?" 

Daryl walks into the room, closing the door quietly. "Figured you might need or want some of these," he replies, holding up a pill bottle. 

"Questionable pharmaceuticals?" Paul asks, raising a brow and wincing. "Thanks, but no." 

"'S only Vicodin, asshole," Daryl says. "Wasn't sure if y'had any." 

"I don't, but I'm good," Paul says, wandering back into the bathroom. "Gonna need a clear head today. Taking something like Vicodin would fuck that up entirely." 

"Bein' in pain would, too," Daryl retorts. 

"Nah." Paul smiles, shaking his head. "Helps me focus better, actually." 

"What if y'need to run?" Daryl asks, frowning. "Or when we need t'put a probe down?" 

Paul comes out of the bathroom with a small bag in his hand. "Won't have to run if we do everything right," he replies, then shrugs. "I mean, there's always that chance, but I'm hoping it won't come to that today." He puts the bag on the bed, licking his lips. "Shoulder's not that bad today. Mostly just phantom echoes." 

He glances at Daryl before he begins rifling through his bag, pulling out a brace and a tube. He puts both items on the bed and starts wriggling out of his sleep pants, smirking when he hears Daryl clear his throat. He eases down on the bed and grabs the tube, opening it and squirting some into his hand. He recaps the tube, tossing it aside as he smears the gel onto his knee, rubbing in it thoroughly before grabbing the brace and wrapping it around his knee. He leans back a little in surprise when a pair of cargo pants suddenly appear in front of him; blinking, he looks up to see a red-faced Daryl holding them out to him. 

Paul smiles and takes them, murmuring a soft, "Thanks." He slowly pulls them on, continuing, "So, aside from fixing Dottie, what's the plan for today?" 

"Southeastern Oklahoma," Daryl replies. "Maybe even into east-northeast Texas or west-southwest Arkansas." 

"Pretty big area to chase," Paul remarks, standing and going over to his duffel, picking out a shirt. "Any reason why?" 

"'S what the data says," Daryl says. "Should know more once we get there an' we get more data." 

"Fair enough," Paul says, nodding. 

He switches out his shirts, packing up his night clothes and everything else. He makes a face at Daryl when the other man shoves the pill bottle at him, putting it in his bag and taking out another one, pocketing it before zipping his duffel. He frowns when Daryl takes his bag from him, turning and leaving the room without saying a word. Paul pulls on his shoes and socks before following him, throwing a scowl at the man when he sees him outside with everyone else, then pasting a smile on his face as he turns to Maggie. Maggie simply shakes her head at him. 

"I still think you an' Daryl are crazy fer this," she says. 

"Some of our best ideas have been on the crazier side," Paul says. "Besides, putting wings on Dottie's data balls might be one of our tamer ideas." 

"When you put it that way, it sounds disturbingly kinky," Tara says as she passes them, a box of soda cans in her hands. 

"Can it before you fan it," Paul jokes, grinning when Maggie and Tara groan. 

"That was terrible, even for you," Maggie says. "Fer that, yer goin' in the Winnebago 'til we get to Oklahoma." 

"C'mon, Maggie," Paul whines. "It wasn't that bad." 

"It was," Maggie insists, gently shoving Paul towards the Winnebago. "'Sides, we're gonna need extra hands to make those wings." 

Paul grumbles, but allows Maggie to shove him into the Winnebago, shooting Daryl an apologetic look and a shrug as he steps into the back of the vehicle. He maneuvers around the many boxes and supplies, settling himself down at the table, Maggie taking the seat across from him. Tara hops in with them, putting the box in her hands down on the table before bending down to retrieve a box of supplies and putting that on the table as well. Glenn gets in the driver's seat and starts the vehicle, pulling out of the parking lot a couple minutes later. Once they're at a good clip does Tara start pulling out supplies from the second box while Maggie plucks a few cans from the first. The hours pass quickly and quietly as they trace, cut, and piece together little wings from the cans and adhering them to the data balls one by one. Paul hadn't realized how early they left Kansas until they stop at a small rest area near their target area in southeastern Oklahoma, climbing out and squinting at the bright early afternoon sun. 

"Figured we should stop for food," Daryl says, answering the unasked question. "Ain't like any o'us have eaten yet." 

"We ought to discuss where we're actually going, too," Maggie says. 

"Food first," Glenn says. "I hate making plans on an empty stomach." 

Lunch is a mostly quiet affair, everyone too busy eating to make idle chatter. Paul mostly pokes at his food, waiting for his nausea to abate. 

"Waited too long t'take somethin', didn' ya?" Daryl asks, gently nudging Paul. 

Paul hums. "Kinda forgot to," he replies, picking up a fry and nibbling on it. "Got busy with the project and didn't really think about it until we stopped." He finishes his fry and picks up another, frowning at it. "Stepping out of the Winnebago kinda felt like a piece of rebar smacked me upside the head." 

"You sure you're good to chase?" Maggie butts in, brows furrowed, "an' don't bullshit me. I saw how pale you got when you stepped out of the Winnebago." 

"I'm fine," Paul says. "Just give me an hour or two and I'll be good to go." 

"Funnily enough, that might be enough time to get to our target area," Glenn says. 

"What exactly is our target area?" Paul asks. "'Cause Daryl gave me way too broad of an area to be reasonable." 

"Arkansas is out," Rosita replies. "New data sets came in while we were on the road and I think we're better off staying here or heading off to Texas." 

"Could do both," Glenn says. "There's only about an hours distance between Idabel and, say, Clarksville." 

"Might not have an hour," Maggie points out. 

"True, but that doesn't mean we should rule it out entirely," Glenn says. 

"I think our best bet is near Valliant," Rosita says. "It might mean dipping down into Texas given how close they are to the state lines." 

"How bad's the outlook?" Paul asks. 

"EF3s, easy," Rosita replies. "A lot of reports are saying EF4." 

"This isn't going to end up as Oklahoma: The Sequel, right?" Paul asks. 

"Hopefully not," Maggie replies, frowning. 

"But it is a possibility," Rostia says, raising a brow when Maggie shoots her a look. "What? I'm not going to lie and say it's going to be hunky-dory, smooth sailing. Shit could actually get dangerous today, more than it usually gets, and having to get in front of a possibly deadly tornado to deploy Dottie just ups that danger factor." 

"Maybe another team should deploy her then," Maggie suggests, raising her brows at Daryl. "Get our two trouble-makers out of the line of fire." 

"You ever deploy a probe?" Daryl challenges. 

"Once or twice," Maggie replies with a grin. "Totalled my truck the last time I did it, too." 

"C'mon, Maggie," Glenn says. "Don't take away the thing they're both best at. I mean, Daryl's a whiz with the numbers, but can you really see him sitting back and not go careening into danger?" 

"We'd probably have to tie him down," Tara jokes. 

"I wasn't bein' serious, chill," Maggie says, rolling her eyes. 

There's a smattering of laughter and the conversation dies down, giving everyone enough time to finish their food before heading out. They take enough time to fill the new sensors into the two probes they have, sealing them shut tight. 

"So, Valliant?" Rosita queries. 

"Valliant," Daryl replies. "Keep an eye on the sky an' radar." 

"Aye, cap'n," Tara says, mock saluting before climbing into Doppler. 

They all climb into their designated vehicles, Paul going with Daryl this time, smiling a little tiredly at the man. 

"I don't like it, but I I'm going to nap a bit," he says. "Try and get rid of this headache completely." 

"Do what ya need to," Daryl mumbles, starting the truck and pulling out of the lot, heading west. "Doubt anythin's gonna happen til later." 

Paul hums and settles back, letting the motions of the car lull him into sleep. He's nudged awake what feels like a few minutes later, squinting his eyes open with a grunt. 

"Couldn't wait a little longer?" he grouses. 

"'S been an hour already," Daryl says. "An' Tara's been squawkin' 'bout downdrafts an' wind flow or somethin'." 

" _You know exactly what I'm talking about, Dixon,_ " Tara says. " _It's all coming together. I pretty much expect excitement within the next fifteen minutes._ " 

Paul picks up the receiver, yawning before asking, "Do we know where exactly?" 

" _Hey there, sleepyhead!_ " Tara says before replying, " _Just southwest of Valliant, actually, so about another ten minutes or so._ " 

"Talk about luck," Paul murmurs. 

" _Or I'm just that good at reading radar,_ " Tara says. " _I'm betting on that, really, because I'm pretty sure we passed Negan's Roach Patrol not too long ago._ " 

"Of course," Paul mutters. "We splitting off soon?" 

" _Next exit is where most of us are going to end up,_ " Tara says. " _You two, Glenn, and Abraham are going to take the exit after that before splitting off further._ " There's a brief sound of paper shuffling before Tara speaks again. " _Glenn and Abraham should head south - you guys can flip a coin or something on who takes southeast versus southwest - while you and Daryl head north-northeast a little ways._ " 

"We sure about that?" Paul asks, adding over Tara's squawk, "I'm just saying, if it's like the last Oklahoma one, you're putting them directly in the path." 

" _We honestly don't know exactly where it'll go,_ " Tara says, sounding petulant. " _I'm guessing you guys can figure it out when it finally hits the ground._ " 

"Tara..." 

" _No, you're right; I know you're right,_ " Tara says and sighs. " _I'm just going on what we should know about tornadoes, but there's always that one that surprises us every season. Mother Nature's Hellish Curveball._ " 

"You're right, too," Paul says. "You only know what the radar's telling you and what your gut might be telling you." 

" _My gut says I should've eaten more at the diner,_ " Tara says and there's a titter of laughter. " _Seriously, though. That's Plan A, but there's always room for a Plan B or C or however many you come up with._ " 

"Plan A sounds solid," Paul says, "but if anything changes, run your asses out of the way as fast as you can. Do not engage unless you literally have no other option and hope like hell you survive." 

" _Got it,_ " Glenn's voice comes through. 

" _Ten-four,_ " Abraham follows. 

" _You guys be careful, too,_ " Glenn says. " _I know that sounds a little redundant, but don't get reckless out there._ " 

"I can't guarantee anything, but we'll do our best," Paul says. 

" _You better,_ " Maggie says. " _I actually wanna see you two after this, not waitin' in some hospital wonderin' if you'll wake up or not._ " 

There's a chorus of agreement and Paul groans. "If it makes you feel better, we'll keep you guys updated this time around," he says. "I don't know what you could do if we end up in that kind of situation again, but at least you'd know immediately. Fair?" 

Everyone agrees to the terms and sends off. Paul puts the receiver down and opens up his computer, poking at the keyboard and bringing up the live radar. He glances outside at the rapidly gathering clouds, paying little mind when Glenn and Abraham disappear off the highway behind them. A light rain starts as the get off the highway, initially heading north, then east, the sky slowly darkening as the wind picks up. Lightning streaks across the clouds, thunder immediately following. Paul narrows his eyes as he scans the landscape, picking up the receiver when it starts to hail. 

"We have hail," he says. "Should be any second now." 

" _We have a good view where we are,_ " Maggie calls back, then, " _Oh! There it goes._ " 

Paul immediately sees what Maggie does; dirt kicking up seconds before the tornado drops down. He frowns as he watches two more drop down, dancing around one another chaotically. 

" _Ah, hell,_ " Paul hears Maggie mutter. 

"Well, that's never a good sign," Daryl mutters, mostly to himself. 

"We can do this," Paul says, "but only if we listen to each other and keep a level head this time." 

Daryl hums and slows the truck, pulling over to the shoulder so they can get a better look. He grabs the camera from the center console and hops out of the truck, jogging across the road to snap some photos. The three smaller tornadoes have coalesced into one, forming a thick wedge shape. Several other wispy ropes dance around the wedge, dropping down before disappearing just as quickly. 

" _Oh, she is a beauty,_ " Abraham comments. 

Paul quietly agrees, but there's that slowly sinking feeling in his stomach that tells him something's wrong. He leans over to honk the horn a couple times before pulling his hair into a tight bun and climbing out of the truck, staring out at the tornado as Daryl jogs back over. 

"What's up?" he asks. 

"Not sure," Paul murmurs, "but we might have a chance to deploy soon." 

"Here?" Daryl blinks, looking at the tornado then back to Paul, head tilted. "Y'sure?" 

"Maybe a little down the road, but yeah," Paul replies, glancing at Daryl and grinning. "Need a hair tie?" 

Daryl scoffs, brushing his hair away from his face, scowling when it whips damply back into his face from the wind. Paul holds out his spare hair tie, biting at his lower lip when Daryl glowers at him, but takes the tie, pulling his hair into a messy tail. He looks back to the tornado, watching it veer around the field, flinching back when lightning slices through the sky, thunder booming. 

"Where're we settin' her down?" Daryl asks. "'Cause I ain't gonna stand 'round waitin' t'get my ass fried or my skull crushed." He rolls his eyes when Paul continues to stare at the tornado, narrow eyes tracking the storm. He opens his mouth to ask again when Paul turns to him. 

"Down the road a little," Paul says, pointing. "A couple yards that way. C'mon." 

He jogs to the back of the truck, removing the few straps he can reach from the probe, flinching and ducking down when more lightning flashes. Daryl jumps onto the truck bed just as the thunder crashes, spitting out a few curses as he removes the rest of the straps from the probe and pressing a few buttons to activate it. Seconds later, Paul grabs at the end nearest to him and tugs, grunting with effort to get it off the bed. Daryl jumps down, helping Paul get the probe off the truck bed, maneuvering it carefully but quickly, watching the younger's mans face intently for any indication to drop the probe. 

"Here." 

"Middle o'the road?" Daryl questions, setting the probe down. "Ain't scared somebody's gonna run 'er over?" 

"No one will be coming," Paul replies, pressing a few more buttons on the probe, wincing when it starts wailing a siren. 

Daryl looks dubious, but lets it go. They both jog back to the truck, climbing in; Daryl jerks the truck into drive while Paul picks up the receiver. 

"We set down a probe," he says. 

" _Would've been nice to have a little warning, but thanks,_ " Tara says. 

"We ready for this?" Paul asks. 

" _Always,_ " Tara says. " _Hopefully, this time we'll get something better than a drive-by._ " 

"Fingers crossed," Paul says, smiling. 

He puts the recevier down and grabs the camera, rolling down the window, spluttering a bit when rain blows in. He wipes his face and the camera before wriggling half his body outside, wedging himself securely so he doesn't fall out. He kicks at the center console, huffing when the truck jerks to a stop and Daryl pops up from his side less than a minute later. 

"We ready fer this?" Daryl queries. 

"More than," Paul replies, throwing Daryl a smile. 

He powers on the camera and points it at the probe, the wide wedge taking up most of the background. It feels like hours waiting for the tornado to hit the probe, but it's really only a few minutes. Paul chews on his lower lip, watching the tornado dance around, watches the probe scuttle on the road, biting down a hiss of frustration. 

"Come on." 

"She's too light," Daryl mumbles, barely heard over the wind. 

"No she's not," Paul retorts. "She'll get taken." 

The probe scuttles around some more as the tornado gets closer, almost veering into the ditch before jerking back to the road. When it looks like it might get picked up, a tree branch spins out from the tornado, hitting the probe dead center and knocking it and it's sensors out over the road. Paul almost drops the camera in shock and surprise. 

"Fuck!" Daryl's shout is heard clear over everything. 

Paul silently agrees, watching the branch spin back up into the air, his eyes widening when he realizes it's coming for them. 

"Shit! Get in the truck!" 

Daryl looks up at the branch before quickly disappearing inside the truck, Paul following him. Daryl's only able to get the truck into gear when they're jerked violently and spun, the branch wedging itself underneath the truck. He stares briefly at the tornado coming toward them before trying to get the truck moving, racing back and forth to no avail. 

"Get us out of here, Daryl," Paul says. 

"Tryin'," Daryl says. "Got wedged pretty good." 

Paul grimaces, looking up at the tornado barreling closer, squinting when he sees flashes of metal within the dark cyclone. 

"The hell is that?" he murmurs. 

"The hell is what?" Daryl asks, glancing up at the tornado, cocking his head slightly when he also sees the flashes. 

Both of their eyes widen when they finally recognize what they're seeing. 

"Shit," Daryl breathes. 

"That certainly complicates things," Paul whispers. 

Paul watches the semi spin, disappearing and reappearing like some sort of deadly spectre. He can't help the whimper of panic when it gets flung towards them, glancing over at Daryl who has a grim look on his face. Seconds later, it crashes into them, effectively getting them off the branch, but not without a fair bit of anxiety involved. Daryl takes the chance and spins the truck around, switching gears and speeding off, fingers tight on the wheel. Paul hears the semi bounce a few times before being thrown back into the air, disappearing from sight. There's a collective sigh from the both of them, a brief respite, but they know it's only a matter of time before something else happens. As if the universe is listening, the semi reappears, landing in front of them and exploding in a ball of fire, causing both to shout in surprise. They drive through the fire, coming out the other side no worse for wear. 

" _Holy shit, that was awesome!_ " Glenn's voice comes through. " _Did you guys see that?_ " 

Paul picks up the receiver, swallowing. "Yeah," he says. "We saw it." He licks his lips. "First deployment didn't work out, so we're going to try again. We'll let you guys know when." 

" _Hopefully before you drop the thing in the road,_ " Tara mutters teasingly. 

"No promises," Paul says cheerfully. "We have any idea where exactly this thing might be heading?" 

" _You're gonna want to go east,_ " Tara replies immediately. " _That's about all I can give you right now._ " 

"Awesome," Paul deadpans. "Thanks." 

" _You're welcome!_ " Tara chirps. 

They call off, allowing Paul to focus on the radar and the tornado behind them. He's a little worried that the rain's petered off and the lightning coming less frequently, but he chooses to not think too much about it. They speed past an equipment yard and Paul frowns when he hears the vague sound of some pieces being picked up, knowing what it could mean. When a tractor drops down in front of them on the road, Paul braces himself. 

"We have debris," he says. 

"Debris!" Daryl scoffs, jerking the wheel to avoid the tractor. "Bit more than debris, asshole." 

"Fuck off," Paul says, sucking in a breath when another tractor drops down. "Watch it!" 

Daryl grumbles, but jerks the wheel. They veer around the various equipment as it's dropped in front of them, breathing deep when they veer around the last one, clipping the side of it and cracking the windshield. 

"What next?" Daryl grumbles, shoulder tight. 

"Oh, don't say that," Paul moans. "Next thing you know, we'll end up going through a house or taking a spin in the tornado or something." 

When a house rolls across the road, Daryl simply throws a glare at Paul and speeds through it, having only minor satisfaction when Paul puts his hands over his eyes until they literally bounce out of the house. He peeks out from behind his hands, dropping them before grabbing the receiver. 

"So, east?" he queries. 

" _Still east,_ " Tara replies. " _You're gonna want to eventually head north, but only when you're able to._ " 

" _Just be careful guys,_ " Glenn says. " _Looks like this thing's just getting stronger the longer she's on the ground._ " 

"Fantastic," Paul grouses, glancing outside, squinting. "Is that Negan?" 

" _What?_ " 

"Nothing." Paul reaches over to change the frequency before speaking. "Negan, what's your position?" 

" _Well, howdy, Jesus!_ " Negan practically chirps. " _Fancy hearing you right now! I gotta say, I'm a little disappointed I didn't get to see you on the news last night, but this is just as good._ " There's a crackle of a chuckle, then, " _We're on her south flank, heading north, about to pull ahead of her. Why?_ " 

"Pull back a bit," Paul says. "She looks like she's about to shift her tracks." 

" _Well, thanks for that, but I think we're alright just where we are,_ " Negan says. 

"Damnit, Negan," Paul growls. 

" _Nuh-uh,_ " Negan huffs. " _We're about to intercept this bitch and you want me to pull out like some rookie because you're worried she might shift? Come on now, Jesus._ " 

"The probe's too light," Paul tries. "You have to weigh it down before trying to deploy it." 

" _Sharing advice?_ " Negan coos. " _I'll keep that in mind, thanks._ " 

"Would you just..." 

"Paul," Daryl murmurs, leaning forward a bit to look outside. 

Paul blinks and looks outside, swallowing thickly when he realizes he was right. 

"She's shifting." He licks his lips to try again. "Negan, you have to get out of there. We have a good view back here and she's heading right for you." 

" _Why don't you shut up and get off this frequency?_ " Negan suggests, sounding frustrated. 

"I'm trying to save your life!" Paul shouts. "If you would just fucking listen to me..." He blinks when the radio cuts off. He throws the receiver down and leans back, chewing on his lip. 

He scrubs a hand over his face before sitting back up to look outside. He watches Negan's vehicle jerk a bit, getting caught up in the outer wall. His eyes widen, mouth dropping open when he sees a piece of metal siding crash through the windshield; seconds later, the vehicle's picked up, disappearing into the tornado. Not long after that, it reappears, taking a nosedive down to crash into the ground in an explosive fireball. Paul flinches, turning away from the scene with his eyes shut tight. 

"We tried," Daryl murmurs after a long silence. "Weren't nothing we could do 'bout it." 

"That could've been us," Paul mumbles. "Could've been us so easily." 

Daryl reaches out to take one of Paul's hands and squeezing, humming when Paul squeezes back tightly before letting go. He changes the frequency on the radio, wincing at the clamour of voices as he picks up the receiver. 

"We're alright," he says. "It wasn't us." 

" _What the hell, Paul?_ " Maggie shouts. 

"Changed frequency," Paul replies. "Tried to warn Negan, but you see how that went." 

" _Ah, hell,_ " Maggie says. " _I'm sorry._ " 

"We tried, that's all we could do," Paul says with a shrug. "We'll probably try for an intercept soon." 

" _How soon is soon?_ " Tara asks. 

"Sometime within the next five minutes," Paul replies. "I'll try to let you know sooner, but don't count on it." 

" _Got it,_ " Tara says. 

Paul puts the receiver down and looks at Daryl, giving the man a small smile that's returned. 

"Last one," he says. "Last try." 

"Yep," Daryl says. 

They drive a little further down the road before veering into a corn field, heading straight for the tornado. Paul gets out of his seat, clapping Daryl on the shoulder before yanking open the back window, preparing and activating the probe before wriggling back inside, picking up the receiver. 

"We're about to deploy," he says. "We might not hear you once that happens, so don't freak out too much, alright?" 

" _The hell's that supposed to mean?_ " Maggie squawks. 

"Just follow the GPS to our last known location," Paul says over Maggie's protests. 

He puts the receiver down and looks at Daryl, nodding at one another. Daryl puts the truck into cruise control before opening his door, Paul doing the same on his side. 

"On the count of three," Paul says. "One, two...three!" 

They both jump out, rolling into the field. Paul winces as he stands, but practically jumps into the cleared path to watch the truck, Daryl joining him. 

"Go on," Paul murmurs, gripping at Daryl's arm. "Go on, go on." 

His eyes light up when the probe bursts open, the little sensors flying up into the tornado, the truck following soon after. He shouts in triumph, turning and jumping into Daryl's arms, wrapping his arms around the older man, giggling when he's spun around. He's put back down and he pulls away, grinning widely. His smile drops, head snapping to the tornado, eyes widening when he sees it coming towards them. 

"Shit." 

"Run!" 

Daryl shoves Paul into the corn field, running through the field and eventually out the other side, the tornado hot on their heels. His knee and lungs are screaming, but he pushes on, gripping tight to Daryl's hand when the man reaches out to him. 

"Through the fence!" Daryl shouts, pointing to a gap. 

Paul goes first, sparing a look at the tornado before Daryl's shoving at him again, through the grassy field and to a barn. He gets the door open and darts inside, frowning in concern when he sees what's inside. Daryl grunts, looking at the knives and sickles hanging inside. 

"No way in hell," he says. 

They both duck when debris shoots through the barn, running to the other side and exiting, both glancing up at the tornado before making a run for another barn. Paul stumbles, breath wheezing out of him, his knee refusing to cooperate. He feels Daryl wrap an arm around him, hauling him up, his apologies getting lost in the howling wind as he forces Paul to move. They dodge debris as they run, somehow finally getting to the other building. Panic sweeps through Paul as the wind gusts and he feels himself getting blown back, but he's tugged forward by Daryl's grip on him. They get the door open and they rush inside, Daryl slamming the door and locking it as Paul's body gives out. He tumbles to the ground, panting and grunting at the pain of it, looking up at Daryl with wide eyes. 

"Ain't givin' up jus' yet," Daryl says when he sees the look on Paul's face. "Pipes like these go down at least thirty feet. Should give us a chance." 

"How?" Paul wheezes. 

Daryl looks around, flinching when there's banging from outside. He picks up some leather straps, snapping them and nodding. He loops them through the pipe, wrapping Paul in one set and himself in the other. He kneels next to Paul, ducking his head when the windows burst and debris flies in. 

"Hang on!" Daryl shouts. 

Paul wraps his arms around the pipe just as the tornado comes over them, ripping the barn away, leaving them open to the elements. There's a terrifying feeling of weightlessness as the wind whips them up, trying to suck them up entirely, but the pipe and leather hold. They flail around like a couple rag dolls for many long minutes, bits of debris whipping around with them, feeling like tiny little knives slicing across their bodies. Paul gets a peek at the center of the storm, a sort of reverence washing over him at the sight before he closes his eyes, hoping for it to be over soon. 

He knows almost exactly when the storm abates. The weightless feeling leaves, dropping them both back down to the ground roughly, causing both of them to grunt. The sky lightens, debris dropping down around them, the pipe they were clinging to bursting and spraying water everywhere. They're soaked in seconds, but they pay it no mind, looking around them at the destruction. Daryl looks at Paul, smiling. 

"We made it," he says. 

"Guess we did," Paul says, returning the smile, then chuckling softly, "but I never want to do that again." 

Daryl snorts. "Agreed." 

Both their smiles soften as they continue to stare at one another. Slowly, they lean in and Paul closes his eyes, expecting to be kissed, but the sound of vehicles interrupts. He opens his eyes and looks down the road, eyes lighting up when he sees their caravan coming up and parking near them. He cringes away a little when Maggie jumps out of the Winnebago, glaring fiercely. 

"Don't you two ever do that again!" she practically shouts. 

"It worked," Daryl says. 

Maggie scowls and opens her mouth to say something else when Tara bounces out of Doppler, grinning widely. 

"So much data!" Tara cries. "Got it practically coming out of our ears!" 

"We're going to have to crunch all those numbers," Paul groans, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Make some scale models and everything." 

"So, you crunch the numbers an' I'll do the lab," Daryl says. 

Paul drops his hands to stare at Daryl. "Seriously?" he squawks. "Uh-uh. _You_ crunch the numbers and _I'll_ do the lab." 

Daryl scoffs and wraps an arm around Paul. "Sure there ain't a way I can't convince ya otherwise?" he says. 

"No way, Dixon," Paul says, gently shoving at Daryl. "You're better at numbers than I am, so don't even think about it." 

Daryl scoffs, bumping their foreheads together. He looks up at everyone else, smiling at their collective excitement. 

"Look at that sky," Glenn says, pointing in a general direction. "It's always so beautiful after these kind of storms." 

"I think I might have something better to look at," Paul murmurs, cupping Daryl's jaw and smiling at the man before finally sealing their lips together. 

He hears various cheers from the group and he hums, closing his eyes to focus on the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it. ._. All the thanks and love for everyone who read this and/or left comments/kudos. Y'all are awesome and amazing. <3


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